


Skin and Bones

by LiviaCara



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21583540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviaCara/pseuds/LiviaCara
Summary: "You're a dragon. Be a dragon."That's the only thing Daenerys is able to think when she finds herself alone and betrayed by those she trusted the most. She will stop at nothing to get what was taken from her, but she won't risk anyone else's life, only hers.Because, what kind of queen is she if she's not willing to risk her own life in order to win The Last War?
Relationships: Aegon VI Targaryen/Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 197
Kudos: 311





	1. Dragons Plant No Trees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When S8 aired I was so mad at what they did to Daenerys' character that I couldn't bring myself to watch or read anything related to Thrones for months.  
> It took me a long time to recover from the dissapointment, but I've finally decided to try to give this story an alternate ending.   
> Hopefully, a little better than than the one we got in May.
> 
> Keep in mind that:  
> \- I'm mixing some books and series details or events along the story. I'll try to warn about those at the beginning of each chapter, and probably most of them will be explained at the end notes.   
> \- English is not my mother tongue and my job is in no way related to writing so, please, bear with me in terms of grammar.

_They’re my children. They’re the only children I’ll ever have._

The memory of her own voice resonated in her head on and on as Daenerys contemplated the wild sea pounding the coastline. A day had passed, maybe two.

And that was all she had done since their arrival: watch the shores, waiting for Rhaegal to emerge from the shallows and fly towards her as he had done so many other times while on their journey to Westeros.

But as time passed, Daenerys became aware of the sad reality. She would never see Rhaegar and Missandei again.

At their meeting, Tyrion had been optimistic, reassuring her that his sister probably wanted to trade her life in exchange for Missandei’s.  
Daenerys had tried hard not to snort at his naivety. She knew Cersei would never agree to an exchange. All her movements had been made with the sole purpose of provoque her, hurt her and isolate her. And, truth be told, she had done a brilliant job.  
She hadn’t been alone in her schemes to weaken her, though. Since their arrival to Westeros, Tyrion had adquired the bad habit of forgetting they were at war.

Varys, on the other hand, had remained silent, confirming Daenerys' suspicions.  
Even though she already knew by then that Missandei was a lost cause, Daenerys had refused to give the Spider another motive to his plots, accommodating to her Hand's wishes of agreeing on a meeting with Cersei.

Nonetheless, Varys betraying her was something Daenerys had anticipated almost from the moment they had met each other. He had always wanted her to be submissive and manageable, something that was no longer in Daenerys’ nature. She had seen the mistrust in his gaze during the festivities at Winterfell, but eventually it had turned into something else, something she had warned Tyrion about the first time he had ever spoke in his favour.

_"You say you want me to break the wheel, but you suggest I take to my private council the man who best knows how to spin it.”_

Back then, she had trusted Tyrion's judgement blindly, but now… Now, things were different. He had proved himself unworthy of her trust _too many_ times.

_"Well?", she had asked Iristes, the Unsullied to whom, following her orders, Grey Worm had comissioned with Varys’ surveillance._

_"The dwarf has told Lord Varys who Jon Snow really is. Sansa Stark told him."_

_Iristes hadn’t even doubted for a moment and_ _Daenerys had found herself shivering of pure rage._

 _Not because she hadn’t expected Sansa to be so utterly untrue to her own word, but because Tyrion hadn’t come to her the moment he had found out. Instead, he had told Varys, knowing perfectly well the consequences it may have._ _His treason had hurt her more deeply than she'd ever admit._

_"Lord Tyrion suggested a marriage between you and Jon Snow, but the Spider believes you are too strong. He thinks you’ll bend him to your will."_

  
  
Daenerys closed her eyes tightly at the memory, trying not to cry by all means. She had contemplated that possibility a long time ago, during those blissful weeks Jon and her had spent in the boat and later riding on their way to Winterfell.

Then, the truth had come out: Jon was Rhaegar's son, her own nephew and the rightful heir to The Iron Throne.

The bewilderment, the fear and the uncertainty of what that could mean for them had shaken her to the bone. And with each step she had made towards Jon, looking for a shadow of the love that they once had shared, he had backed twenty, breaking her heart into a thousand pieces and leaving her at the mercy of her enemies, among which, was his own family.

After that, Daenerys had come to accept that her only vision disgusted him and that he was unable to see beyond the fact that they were related.  
In all honesty, she wasn’t surprised by his reaction at all, for if there was something she was certain about, it was Jon’s impeccable sense of duty. And a man as honourable as he was, would never touch or look at her aunt the way he'd done when he didn’t know that she was.

Varys ruling out the possibility of marriage between them based on her being too strong and, therefore, Jon too weak, made her feel insulted.

All her life, she had thought herself nothing but a pawn. First in Viserys' hands, and later, on whomever rode her at night.

But now that she had an army or her own, now that she had dragons and she didn’t need to rely on anyone for support, she was still the problem. She would always be. Because no one wished to advise a person who couldn’t be easily manipulated.

In the end, Lady Olenna was right:

_"The lords of Westeros are sheep. Are you a sheep? No, you’re a dragon. Be a dragon."_

Daenerys couldn’t help but smile while remembering the old woman. Her death had been quick and painless, or at least that's what Tyrion had assured her. She hadn’t found any comfort on the fact, though. Her death, as the Sand Snakes’ and Yara Greyjoy’s kidnapping were the tangible proof of Olenna’s words.

Listening to Tyrion’s, Varys’ and even Jon’s advise had cost her more than half of her armies, two of her dragons, Jorah... And Missandei. The woman she'd loved like a sister and whose ashes now rested in the crypts that the first Targaryen had built in Dragonstone centuries ago.

No, if she wanted to win the war, if she really wished to break the wheel, she needed to start acting on her own and stop listening to those who were hoping to perpetuate the system that had procured her own oppression from the cradle.

"Your majesty?" 

Tyrion’s trembling voice behind her took her out of her thoughts, but Daenerys kept herself quiet, with her gaze fixated on the horizon.  
She knew exactly why Tyrion was there, and she intended to play along with him until she got what she wanted. 

"There’s something you need to know."

"Someone has betrayed me."

Tyrion’s eyes widened with surprise, tough she couldn’t tell.

"I’m afraid it's true, your majesty."

"Varys”, she said, turning to look at him. "He knows who Jon really is. He thinks he’s the one who should be King."

Tyrion didn’t say anything, confirming what she already knew.

"How long have you known?", Daenerys asked as she sat down and made him a gesture to emulate her movements.

The dwarf moved very slowly, as if he was intimidated by her mere presence, and Daenerys couldn’t help but enrage.

It was as if all the time they had spent together didn’t matter at all, it was as if he didn’t know her and he only saw her father when he looked at her.  
Nothing she had done mattered any more, none of the things she had sacrificed to get there had any value. There was someone more qualified and more fit than her, at least in their eyes, to sit on The Iron Throne.

And she had been stupid enough to pave him the way.

"Since we came back from King’s Landing", Tyrion admitted. "I wanted to tell you earlier, your grace, but you were not well and–"

Daenerys shook her head.

"I meant Jon’s true parentage", she said, looking directly into his eyes.

Tyrion lowered his head and cleared his throat.

"Since we came back from Winterfell, your majesty”, he confessed, visibly taken aback.

Daenerys nodded slowly.

"And all this time, you didn’t think it would be convenient for me to know that."

"Your majesty, I–"

"Save it, Tyrion." She shut him up. "Whatever you were about to say, I don't want to hear it."

"I’m truly sorry, your majesty. I only wanted to–"

The Queen cocked an eyebrow.

"To plot behind my back as Sansa Stark wisely trusted you to do."

Tyrion paled, and Daenerys couldn’t help but feel satisfied by his evident fear.

"Let me tell you a story", she said then, clasping her hands on the table. "Many years ago, after the siege of Yunkai, Sir Barristan Selmy told me about you. He told me about your great intellect, of your accomplishments… And of the constant humiliation your father, your sister and even your own nephew put you through. He confessed to me that he thought you were a good man, capable of great things if given the chance. And I, foolishly, believed him." Daenerys stared Tyrion, but the shame and guilt she saw in his eyes did nothing but fuel her desire of hurting him as much as he had hurt her in the past weeks. "Years later, Sir Jorah brought you to Mereen and you proved that Sir Barristan was right: you were a good man that, as I, had suffered the misfortune of growing up in a loveless home."

"Your majesty, I–"

Shame was tangible in his voice, but Daenerys raised her hand to make him stop.

"You helped me secure my reign and put an end to slavery in the East. You taught me to not let myself get carried away by anger when I most needed it, you showed me that there was other way." The Queen paused, trying to end the rage that was eating her up from the inside. "I made you my Hand because, in addition, I considered you my friend. I trusted you, Tyrion."

Tears fell down the dwarf cheeks, and Daenerys had to look away so he couldn’t see how much it hurt her to even say those words.

 _You’re a dragon. Be a dragon,_ she repeated herself, trying very hard to hide the pain this whole situation was causing her. 

"But not anymore."

"Daenerys, please”, Tyrion implored, kneeling down in front of her and maintaining his head down. "Forgive me. I know I’ve made mistakes, but I can make it up to you. I know I can."

Daenerys struggled to hold back tears. As painful as it was, he couldn’t trust him anymore.

"No, Tyrion, you can’t”, she replied, looking away. "You want to help me, but you wish your sister suffered no harm, even after Rhaegal and Missandei’s deaths. Even after all the damage she has inflicted upon us both."

"She’s my sister!" He cried, as if it explained everything.  
But Daenerys knew all to well that blood was not as sacred as everyone seemed to think. After all, she had had to kill Viserys in order to survive. "Please, your majesty, you have to understand that she– she's pregnant. She told me when we met at The Red Keep."

The revelation came as a heavy blow to Daenerys.

" _What_?"

"My brother is the father, your majesty." He confessed with his head down. "If I have tried to protect her, it has been for my brother. That child is also his, and he is innocent of any crime my sister has ever committed."

Daenerys felt suffocated.

In spite of her evilness, in spite of her lack of compassion and scrupulousness, the Seven had believed appropriate to grant Cersei the gift of a child, next to the love and devotion of her own brother.  
All while Daenerys was consumed by the fact that her womb would never bear a living child and that the man she had given everything up for couldn’t even stand to look at her.

"Your majesty?", Tyrion inquired putting his hand over hers.

Daenerys wanted to draw away, she wanted to yell at him, but his contact summoned a comfort she thought long forgotten. For a brief moment, she felt dear and accompanied. She even weighed in the possibility of pardoning Tyrion and forget what he had done and all the secrets he had been keeping from her. Whatever was necessary in order to extend the pleasant delusion of assurance.

But then, the memories of Jorah, Viseryon, Rhaegal and Missandei went through her mind, and Daenerys withdrew her hand as if the contact burned.  
She couldn’t afford to falter. Not now. She should avenge all those who had died trying to help her get the throne, and the only way to do it was conquering King’s Landing and ending the war once and for all. Their sacrifice should be honoured, and Daenerys was the only one who could make that happen.

" _Zirine Drâkatas”,_ she ordered, turning to the two Unsullied that guarded the room.

"Your majesty, please! No, _please_!", he implored while the soldiers held him up and dragged him out of the room, but Daenerys didn’t flicker.

"Lock him in his rooms. I want someone guarding him day and night. Feed him and give him water." She said in Valyrian to the third soldier standing next to her. "And tell _Torgho Nudo_ to come."

"Your majesty, you cannot do that. It is not safe”, Grey Worm begged Daenerys while he followed her through the halls of the fortress. "Mhysa, please. If something happened to you, I–"

Daenerys stopped at once, turning around to look directly to the only family she had left apart from Drogon.

"If something happened to me", she repeated putting her hands over Grey Worm’s shoulders and forcing herself to smile. "I want you and the rest of the Unsullied to enjoy a long and happy life far from this hell. The Dothraki too. Take whatever is left of the fleet and sail to a safe place. Did I make myself clear?"

Grey Worm swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat.  
The Queen had always talked to him with respect and affection, she had always valued his opinion above others coming from men with more titles and knowledge than him.  
And when he and Missandei had expressed their wish of coming back to Naath after the war, Daenerys had been ecstatic, despite the undeniable fact that she would miss them terribly until her last breath.  
Daenerys had always been more than a Queen. She was human, and she didn’t put any effort trying to hide that fact, turning her into an extraordinary being.

That’s why when she had told him about her plan, Grey Worm inevitably thought of the future generations and all that was at a stake.  
If she failed, the world they had fought so hard to build would evaporate before their eyes.  
Yet, it was her Queen’s life what mattered the most to him. Even more than the future, given that he couldn’t really picture himself in it without Missandei.

"You don’t have to do this, your grace”, he repeated, but Daenerys smiled again.

"I should take the risk now more than ever, _Torgo Nhudo”,_ she replied. "I’ve lost almost everything because I let other people take decisions for me. I won’t risk anyone’s life to get what I want."

"But the crossbows–"

Daenerys forced herself to show some confidence, despite Rhaegal’s horrid death was still fresh in her memory.

"It won’t happen again”, she promised him. “There’s no moon tonight. If they cannot see us, they won't stand a chance."

"Please, allow me and some of my men to go with you”, he supplicated one last time, but Daenerys shook her head even though his insistence was the most touching thing she had experienced in days.

"No, _Torgo Nhudo_. I promised Missandei I would protect you while I could, and I intend to keep that promise. You shall remain here for three days until you get a raven from the city. If nothing comes, summon the remaining Dothraki and depart as soon as you can."

Grey Worm lowered his head, unable to face the fact that this was indeed goodbye. He felt the hand of the Queen over his and a piece of parchment sliding through his fingers.

"Give it to Jon Snow when you see him."

The Unsullied clenched his teeth when he heard his name. It was his fault that their army was decimated, it was his fault that Rhaegal and Missandei had died. And if Daenerys died as it was probable she did it would also be his fault. _‘_

 _Because had he been a real man, had he really been in love with the Queen, he would have kept his mouth shut_ , he thought, but said nothing out of respect for his Queen. She then hugged him briefly and said:

"It’s been an honour, my friend."

Grey Worm cried in silence while he watched her going through the gates and straight to the cliffs where Drogon used to spend his days.

" _Imh nohmê ingrostös”,_ hemurmured to the wind, wondering if that would be the last time he'd see the Mother of Dragons. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. "Take him."  
> 2\. "The honor is all mine."


	2. Ashes In The Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! First of all, thank you so much to everyone who commented, added the story to their bookmarks or left kudos.  
> I definitely wasn't expecting such a great response.  
> Some of you were worried that this might be a 'one-chapter-only' thing.  
> Well, let me tell you I intend to continue AND end this story ;) 
> 
> A few things I'd like to clarify about this chapter:
> 
> \- IMO, the Jon we saw in S6-S7 was far more interesting than the one we got in S8, so the character here is a little bit different from the last season, although he's already made some mistakes that will mostly define his relationship with Dany during the first chapters of the story. 
> 
> \- One of the things that bothered me the most about 8x05 was the lack of background for Daenerys' supposed madness and the total absence of visual level for her while she burns KL. So, for the most part, this chapter is about how she feels when she finds herself at that moral crossroad. It's a special one so don't expect the rest of the chapters to be as thoroughly descriptive. 
> 
> \- I'll try to update once a week/every two weeks, but I cannot promise you anythings as finals are coming and passing them is my top priority right now. So, if it takes me longer to update, that's probably the reason behind it. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! :)

"Milord, a raven has arrived from Dragonstone."

Jon turned his head to look at the trembling boy that had entered his tent, looking away from the fire for the first time in hours.

He couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t been able to do it since the night after the battle, and he knew perfectly well what had prevented him from doing so. He had grown used to fall asleep while having Daenerys' unnatural warmth radiating all through him, with her creamy skin against his and her tiny head resting over his heart.

Jon had always had trouble falling sleep, even as a kid. However, his insomnia had worsened after coming back to life at Castle Black. Eventually, he’d got used to perform while on very little sleep. But then, he had met Daenerys, and before he knew it, he’d found himself sleeping through the night like a baby.

Now that she wasn’t there with him, he was unable to close his eyes without memories stained by shame and regret flooding his mind.

 _And whose fault is that?_ , his inner voice asked while dismissing the boy. _Mine, it’s all mine._

Jon inhaled deeply, praying for the message to be good news.

_"Ambushed by the Iron Fleet…_

_...Rhaegal killed by Euron Greyjoy_

_…Missandei of Naath made prisoner and executed in King’s Landing_

_...Queen Daenerys is not well_

_...It’s imperative that you come to Dragonstone_

_**…Sansa has told me.** "_

Jon read the last part of Tyrion’s letter at least ten times before throwing it to the fire.

Rhaegal was dead, Missandei had been assassinated, Daenerys’ fleet almost completely destroyed… His worst fears had come to life and he had no way to fight them. And as if it weren’t enough, Jon was not in Dragonstone to comfort Daenerys. He was miles away from her and getting there would take him at least a day.

 _Your choice_ , his inner self reminded him.

He’d decided it would be better for them if they travelled separately to the capital, in an effort to put some distance between them.

A distance he’d thought he needed, a distance he’d hoped would give him clarity about his own mind and persona. Of course, Jon was sure that wasn’t the way Daenerys had seen his actions. And it was only natural, as the last time they’d been together he’d pushed her away as if what they had hadn’t meant anything to him. Only because he was too scared to face the terrible truth that pounded under his skin: that, even if it was wrong, he wanted her as much or more than before knowing they were related.

His love for her was still intact, only hidden by a sea of doubt about who he was now.

Sansa being untrue to her word was just the last straw on top of Jon’s problems. Daenerys had tried to warn him about her. She had begged him not to tell her if he really didn’t want to be king.

At first, he had undeniably felt intimidated by the despair that had tainted her voice that night.

Was the crown so important to her that she didn’t even care to ask him how he felt about it? Couldn’t she see he was struggling to figure out who he was supposed to be from now on? Couldn’t she see he was worried about what people would think of them if they found out?

Paradoxically, with Tyrion’s words still dancing in his head, he found himself understanding her despair more and more, and feeling utterly stupid for believing Sansa was anything but a shadow of Cersei and Little Finger. Once again, her sister had made a move and he was nothing but a pawn in the chess of her schemes. Just as he had been during the Battle of the Bastards.

Jon screamed and hit the table with the fist, letting the rage eat him alive while the few movables that decorated the tent suffered the consequences of his ineptness. He even got to shatter a few chairs before Sir Davos entered the tent, clearly alarmed by the noise.

Jon stopped at once, as the man’s serious expression was enough for him to realize he was out of control.

"Are you okay?" Davos asked him softly, slowly approaching.

Jon shook his head and buried his face in his hands, suddenly feeling sick.

"No, I’m not okay. She's losing. And it’s all my fault."

Sir Davos’ brow furrowed.

"What do you mean? What happened?"

Jon showed him to a seat, one of the few that had escaped his rage.

"They were ambushed by Euron Greyjoy and the Iron Fleet", Jon said, trying really hard to stay calm, even though his imagination ran free recreating the scenario in his mind. "Rhaegal was killed, the fleet was almost entirely destroyed and Missandei was captured."

Jon witnessed how blood was drained from Sir Davos’ face. He knew his counsellor was extremely fond of Daenerys’ kind translator and friend.

"Missandei" The man whispered, and Jon understood he didn’t dare to ask.

"She was executed by Cersei’s orders", he explained with a soft voice while putting a hand over his friend’s shoulder.

They remained silent for a few minutes before Sir Davos asked:

"Why did you say it was your fault? It was the Queen who decided to travel South. Even your sister advised her otherwise."

Jon pinched his nose bridge and then plopped himself in the chair next to the man. In the light of the latest events, it was ridiculously obvious that the meeting Davos was referring to and its outcome had been carefully orchestrated by his sister.

"Daenerys left Winterfell because she had no choice", he admitted in a hoarse voice. His eyes stuck in the fire in front of them. "The entire North let her know she wasn't welcome, and I made the mistake of believing that taking back Winterfell would be enough to mitigate my sister’s hunger for power. I guess I saw what I wanted to see."

Davos looked confused.

"I don’t understand."

Jon looked at him, weighing his options. His true origins were something his father, the one who had raised him, had taken to his grave. Jon had only started to realize why. But if there was someone whose advise could be useful and selfless, that was Davos.

The man had proved himself nothing but loyal to him, even in the worst scenarios, when following his command might as well have meant his own death.

"I’m not a bastard, Sir Davos", he finally said. And for a brief second, he yearned for those old days when his background wasn’t something as volatile as wildfire. "The day we arrived at Winterfell, my brother Bran told me the one thing that I'd wanted to know all my life."

_Only to find out I would have been happier without it.  
_

"My mother was Lyanna Stark. I know the rumour says that Rhaegar kidnapped her and raped her, but the truth is that they actually loved each other. They married in secret before I was born. He'd also annulled his marriage to Elia Martell beforehand, which makes me-"

"The rightful heir to The Iron Throne", Davos finished, gaping at him.

The man observed Jon silently until he finally asked the only question he didn’t expect to hear:

"Do you want it?"

Jon almost choked at the uncertainty that tainted his voice, but he shook his head vehemently.

"Why would I?" He replied, louder than he’d intended. "Sir Davos, you know me well. I’m a soldier, a commander maybe, but I’m no King. I was killed while being Lord Commander for letting the wildings cross The Wall. The Northerners didn’t understand that I pledged myself to Daenerys, even after it was her and her dragons who protected them. I’ve made a few good choices while in power, yes. But that doesn’t make me fit to rule."

Davos nodded, though Jon could sense he didn’t fully agree with him.

Nevertheless, he appreciated the man kept his opinion on the matter to himself.

"Does she know this?"

"Aye."

"And what does she think?"

Jon sighed.

"I swore my allegiance to her, and I intend to keep my promise."

Davos cocked an eyebrow.

"Forgive me, milord, but that’s not what I meant."

Only then, Jon understood he was asking about the impact the revelation had had upon their relationship.

"Last time we talked she hadn’t… lost her interest", he said, feeling almost umconfortable while talking of something so utterly private.

_Although I bet she doesn’t feel that way anymore._

"But you have."

It wasn't a question.

Jon wished Sir Davos' words were true. Not loving her would be easy, it would be right.

But denying himself the inherent nature of his feelings was precisely what had driven Daenerys to run away from Winterfell. A fatal mistake.

Trying to deceive his friend now would be of no use if he intended to make things right.

"No, I don’t. _I love her_ ", he finally admitted, realizing at once that it was the first time he'd said it out loud. "I know she's my father's little sister and I- I know what I feel is no right, but I cannot help it."

"Why do you say that?", Sir Davos asked. His face full of confusion. "Many noble families marry among them. Tywin Lannister married his cousin, as your grandparents did, as I recall from the stories princess Shireen used to tell me."

"This is different", Jon quickly replied, although he appreciated his friend's effort to help him see things differently. "We’re not _just_ cousins."

"Aye, you're right", Davos conceded with a sad smile. "It is different. You two might share the same blood, but you were not raised as family. You were two complete strangers when you met each other."

Jon refrained the urge to cry, as it was something he had been thinking about a lot since he had found out: how terribly different things would have been for him and Daenerys had Rhaegar won at The Trident.

"Family is not blood, Jon. I love Gendry like a son, I’d do anything to protect that boy."

Jon smiled at the warmth of his words.

"We share no blood and still, he’s family to me." Davos made a pause before adding: "Besides, for as long as I’ve known you, I haven’t seen you as happy as you were during our journey to Winterfell. Don’t ruin it because you haven’t figured out who you are yet."

Jon bit his lip.

"I’m not sure it matters anymore", he confessed, wishing to be wrong. "Besides, it’s the political aspect of it what truly concerned Daenerys."

Davos nodded in acknowledgment.

"I can see why", he sighed, laying back on his chair. "Even if you don’t want to be King, I can think of a few people who’d benefit from that scenario."

Jon stared him, knowing already who he was referring to. 

"She spent most of her life in the East, and people don’t know anything about her except for the fact that she’s the Mad King’s daughter and The Mother of Dragons. She's a foreig conqueror with the wrong family name."

"She was born here. If I were to take the Throne, I would be despised for the same reasons." Jon objected.

Davos managed a faint smile.

"Maybe. But you’re a man, Jon. That always helps when you seek power. Besides, you were raised in Westeros. If you were King, you would probably have the support from your family and the North."

Jon couldn’t help but snort.

"I wouldn’t be so sure about that."

"Why?", Davos asked bluntly, as if the mere idea was pure nonsense.

"Before we left Winterfell, I told my sisters the truth. I know it was selfish of me to do it, as I mostly wanted Sansa to know so I’d stop feeling less among them-", Jon paused, feeling shameful for being so childish. "I swore them to secrecy before the weirwood tree, but I just received a letter from Tyrion saying that Sansa told him about me. She doesn’t want the North to be free, Sir Davos. She wants to be Queen."

Davos paled, making Jon shiver for he could see the fear in the old man’s eyes

"If Tyrion knows, the Spider must know too", he guessed. "Does Tyrion say anything else?"

"As expected, Daenerys is not well. He urges me to come back to Dragonstone."

Davos swallowed hard and then said:

"Lord Tyrion is right, you should go to her. _Now_."

"What is it that you fear?"

"You heard The Queen at our last meeting", Davos replied as he stood up. "She already threatened to burn The Red Keep twice, so now that her dragons and her friend are gone, I’m afraid the Spider will stop at nothing to prevent her from doing so."

This time, it was Jon who paled.

 _I must protect her_ , was all he could think while he urged Sir Davos to bring the horses so they could ride to the shore.

He hoped he could make it on time, because if something happened to her...

 _I’l burn him alive,_ Jon sentenced, while an anger he’d never felt before grew inside him.

**  
**

Daenerys looked at the silhouette of King’s Landing one last time, right before leading Drogon above the thick clouds that covered the sky that night. She knew all too well that, even if the darkness favoured them, they needed to be invisible until the very last moment. The element of surprise was the key to her success, as the last raven that had come to Dragonstone said the Northern army and what was left of hers weren’t even near The Trident yet.

 _They won’t know until it’s too late_ , she thought, unable to deny herself the comfort of knowing the men responsible for Rhaegal and Missandei’s deaths were about to become ashes in the night. She could feel Drogon’s anticipation beneath her. Her dragon seemed as eager as her to get revenge, and that fact made her feel at peace with herself and with what she was about to do.

Daenerys had never planned to burn the capital to the ground. Even now, while rage was all she could feel under her skin, she wished they could be fast enough to prevent that outcome.

And yet, she wasn’t stupid. She knew how twisted Cersei was, so she'd mentally prepared herself for any scenario.

Ultimately, what was the worst that could happen? People already feared her. They had already judged her as her father’s heiress, baptising her as the Mother of Monsters, even though there was only one of them left.

"We’re the last of our kind, my child", she whispered against Drogon’s scales, feeling his sorrow through their bond. "Let’s make them pay for it."

And so, Daenerys threw her dragon directly to the voids of the night.

A few seconds passed until the Iron Fleet appeared before her eyes, barely a bunch of lights that lightened the shores, forming a semicircle around the cape on which the city stood. She held her breath during the whole dive, urging Drogon to imitate her, only to feel extremely relieved when she noticed no spears were being shot in their direction.

That confirmed her suspicions: they wouldn’t be able to see them until their very end. And only when she had a clear shot at the front line of the fleet, she honoured Missandei’s last words.

" _Dracarys!_ "

Drogon gave a deafening roar before setting fire everything in his path, and Daenerys smiled broadly when she contemplated the thick line of flames they had created under them.

But that brief moment of happiness didn’t last long, as she heard the soldiers screaming and, fearing they could target them thanks to Drogon’s deathly breath, she rushed and lead him upwards again.

Once she made sure they were high enough, she dove again and started to burn the part of the fleet that was closer to the shore, setting up a ring of fire that locked up the remaining ships.

She had planned to let the flames do the rest of the job, but when a spear passed dangerously close to her face, Daenerys decided she would show no mercy at all.

She wouldn’t stop burning until the last crossbow was reduced to ashes in the wind. 

Feeling possessed by the same madness that had consumed her while watching Rhaegal fall from the sky, she didn’t stop screaming until the ship from where the spear had come was nothing but a bonfire.

Then, before the remaining ships could turn the crossbows towards them, she led Drogon into the deep sea, anticipating they wouldn’t be able to locate them while they were under the water. To the soldier’s complete astonishment, they emerged at the other end of the ring of fire, then proceeding to destroying everything and anyone around them.

The water was terribly cold, but Daenerys couldn’t tell, as the temperature in the surface was so high that she could feel her clothes and hair drying up almost instantly. They repeated that dance until the last time they emerged from the shallows, all they could see was fire surrounding them. Only then, Drogon roared with pure and evident content, which made Daenerys smile proudly.

 _That’s it, my son. They cannot hurt you anymore_ , was everything she could think about while she felt the adrenaline roughly pulsating in her veins.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar whistle of spears surrounding them, and Daenerys froze, unable to move until the whistles stopped and she'd checked none of them had hit them.

She looked up at the walls that were supposed to guard the city and realised she had forgotten about them, even though she had seen them first hand at Missandei’s execution. Feeling her blood boiling up at the memory, she led Drogon upwards again, out of the ring of fire that bathed the shores, so they could hide again in the darkness of the night.

Even from above, she was able to hear the Lannister soldiers trying to relocate the crossbows at the top of the walls, unable to figure out Drogon’s location due to the lack of light. It wasn’t until the very last moment, when the dragon’s giant jaw opened to bath them with their fiery breath, that they could see where the beast came from.

And, every time, it was too late.

Daenerys kept commanding Drogon to burn the top of the walls on and on. She only stopped when she looked down and realize that, at last, there were no crossbows left. Following her command, the dragon landed on one of the walls with a ferocious roar that was a clear warning to the soldiers that could have survived.

Daenerys contemplated her work: the city intact apart from the fire columns that surrounded it. She knew it’d take weeks to rebuild the port and the city walls, but she couldn’t refrain a smile when she noticed the fire hadn’t reached any building.

 _I’ve done it, Viserys_ , she found herself thinking, feeling strangely emotional. _I’ve took what was stolen from us._

Her brother’s memory was something she hadn’t expected at all, as for the most part, she only recalled him being evil and mean to her. But, deep in her heart, Daenerys knew that, hadn’t been for him, she wouldn’t have survived childhood. And certainly, she wouldn’t be there.

Up until that moment, she hadn’t really thought how horrible it must have been for her brother. He had abused her terribly, yes, but Daenerys would probably never understand how hard it must have been for him. He had met their parents, their brother and their little nephews. He had known the warm feeling of a home and a family. He had known safety. However, Robert Baratheon and the Lannisters had obliterated everything he held dear and hunted them down viciously for years.

 _He was just a child,_ Daenerys lamented, feeling the tears washing her cheeks. W

iping them away with her hand, she turned her head and saw silhouette of the Red Keep drawn in the horizon. The castle her family had built centuries ago and that, for generations, had been the shelter of every Targaryen that ever lived. In that moment, however, the only thing Daenerys could see was that it didn’t shelter her family, but a monster that had tried her best to tear her apart.

 _Not anymore_ , she thought feeling her sorrow fuelling her desire for revenge. Sensing her despair, Drogon take flight towards the building not thinking of anything else but Cersei screaming while being burned alive before her eyes. But when she opened her mouth to give the order, she heard the screams beneath her. She looked down and then, she saw the crowd.

As Varys had warned her during their last meeting, Cersei had locked up the common people into the Red Keep to use them as a shield against her anger. Feeling Drogon’s fretfulness under her, Daenerys contemplated the idea of giving in to her bloodlust.

 _They’re a spoil of war. It’s the price you must pay to get want you’ve always wanted_ , the dragon inside her whispered. _Aegon The Conqueror killed thousands to get what he wanted. Why do you have to be different?_

Then, Jon's words resonated in her mind as a distant echo:

 _"..If you use them to melt castles and burn cities, you’re not different"_

"But _I am_ ", Daenerys replied, ashes covering her face. "I’m not just a conqueror. I’m a _Khaleesi_. I’m _Mhysa_. I’m The Mother of Dragons."

 _Not anymore, not here_ , the dragon cruelly reminded her. _They’ll want you gone once they know who Jon really is._

Lady Olenna’s words hit her then:

_"They won’t obey you until they fear you."_

Daenerys had agreed with the old woman. Over the centuries, fear had proven to be the safest way to power.

 _But I don’t want them to fear me,_ protested her inner child, the one who hadn’t known the safety of a home nor a mother’s love, making her realise how terribly lonely she felt. _I want them to love me.  
_

The sound of a baby crying made Daenerys painfully aware of the fact that there were children among the crowd.

Her heart cracked wide open. It sounded terribly familiar to the ones she heard whenever she dreamed of Rhaego.

 _I can’t do it. I can’t do them what the Lannisters and Robert Baratheon did to Viserys and me_ , she reasonated, feeling tears welling up in her eyes again. 

And so, Daenerys decided she’d wait to get what she wanted and led Drogon towards the gates of the Red Keep before the commoners' eyes. Many tried to run away from her, others screamed of pure terror.

She tried hard not to care about the looks of fear and hate they gave her, but she cared. She’d always cared, and she’d always do.

_You may cover it up and deny it, but you have a gentle heart._

Holding on to Jorah's memory, she inhaled deeply before doing what she’d just only started to recognise as the right choice.

Moved by their fear, the people had left a void right before the gates, facilitating her the task of landing Drogon without hurting anyone in the process. Once on the ground, her dragon roared, visibly alarmed by the number of soldiers of the Lannister army surrounding them and shielding the people, all of them possible enemies. 

"It’s okay, my friend. They won’t hurt us", Daenerys whispered, trying to ease his mood.

She wasn’t sure at all, but she chose to trust them nonetheless. Just as she hoped they’d choose to do in the future.

"People of King’s Landing", she said from Drogon's back. "Cersei Lannister has deceived you. She’s used your lives and the lives of those you hold dear as a shield, locking you up in here only to protect herself."

The crowd remained silent and visibly surprised.

"I’ve come alone so the city and you didn’t have to suffer a siege", she continued, looking at them straight in the eye. "I swear to you that my dragon and I will harm no one, but I cannot guarantee your safety as long as Cersei remains in power. So, please, abandon the city until it’s all over."

For a moment, silence was all Daenerys could hear. Then, the sound of swords falling to the ground flooded the place.

Daenerys looked at the soldiers with a mixture of surprise and gratitude, knowing that if they cooperated, the people would be safer.

"A queen who uses her people as a shield is no queen", said one of the Lannister soldiers before approaching and adding. "We'll escort them outside the city."

Many of the soldiers imitated him, and Daenerys nodded acknowledging their brave gesture.

Only then, she commanded Drogon to burn the gates so the people and the Lannister soldiers could get out.

As the gates fell down and the people started to run towards the city, Daenerys urged Drogon to take flight up to the castle, feeling pride welling up in her chest while she heard to the commoners cheering her up as they took off. She could still die that night, but she would do it as a kind woman, not as a monster.

And that was all that mattered to her.

**  
**

Cersei woke up to the screams of the people that gathered around the Red Keep.

Uneased, she looked from her window only to watch how, in a matter of minutes, the Iron Fleet was reduced to ashes.

During the whole spectacle, she hadn’t been able to locate the dragon, only his fiery breath and the destruction it left behind.

 _They only need one good shot_ , she reassured herself in an effort to remain calmed. 

Then, the screams started to sound closer and she perched to her balcony. 

As a ring of fire steadily engulfed the walls where all the crossbows were placed, Cersei started to feel her blood draining from her veins.

It was the same sicking feeling she'd experienced during Black Water Bay's battle, when she’d learnt that Stannis Baratheon's troops were about to besiege the city.

It was the smell and the certainty of imminent death.

Fear paralyzed her for a few minutes before she was able to process the reality of what was happening.

Then, she slowly started to dress herself, trying to silence the screams and the ashes that had started to fill the room. And only when she thought herself presentable, she dared to look from the balcony again.

The views left her astonished. Uncertainty and despair made her shiver uncontrollably as she realized that the Targaryen bitch hadn’t even touch the city yet, only the walls where the crossbows had been placed.

"Your grace, the Iron Fleet has been destroyed." She heard Qyburn's voice behind her. "We should leave, your grace. Now."

Cersei didn’t even turn to him.

"You know the plan, Qyburn", she said, as calmly as she was able to. "We won’t leave until it’s time."

"But your majesty, if she comes-"

Cersei smiled.

"She won’t burn the Red Keep", she cut him confidently. "She’s had plenty of opportunities, but she hasn’t. She’s weak. She needs their support."

At that moment, a roar broke the silence of the room and Cersei saw the beast coming directly towards the Red Keep.

It'd been terrifying enough the first time she'd seen him at the Dragonpit but now, it was even worse.

Cersei couldn’t think of a word to describe it because she’d never felt such panic in her entire life.

The dragon’s bloody eyes glowed in the middle of the darkness, and for a second, Cersei thought she was looking directly into Death's eyes.

He was coming for her, roaring mercilessly as Cersei watched the fire emerging from his jaws.

_This is it._

So she closed her eyes and waited for her imminent death. Seconds passed, but fire never came. 

Instead, Cersei heard people screaming beneath her, so she opened her eyes and ran to the balcony.

Daenerys and her dragon had landed, and she was now talking to the people. Cersei couldn’t refrain her excitement as that brief distraction was everything she’d been hoping for.

"Warn the pyromancers. It’s time," she grinned, visibly relieved. "Let’s get the new Queen the welcome she deserves."


	3. The Fear Of Letting Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for all your comments, bookmarks and kudos.  
> Really, I cannot thank you enough for your support. It means a lot to me and pushes me to write... Even when I should be studying lol
> 
> I'd also like to make something clear: while constructive criticism is welcome, attacking other users just because and out of the blue is not.  
> I get we all love GOT and its characters, and so it’s only natural we have strong opinions on how those characters should act or behave.  
> As for me, I’m trying to be as true to the characters (or the way I see them) as I can, but they’re at war. This kind of events usually changes people and the way they think or act from then on. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter :)

All the way from Winterfell, Arya couldn’t stop fearing that the Hound would become a nuisance when trying to get into The Red Keep. Sandor Clegane’s appearance and height were not easy to forget, and she knew most of her plan was based on going unnoticed until the very end of it. The Hound must have guessed what troubled her, because right before arriving to the capital he had told her to relax, as he’d already thought about it.

To Arya’s astonishment, the man had given her a cape and told her about a passage he knew under the capital that conveyed one of the south walls of the keep with Aegon’s Hill.

"Privileges of serving Jeoffrey", he’d said with a face of disgust. Arya smiled at that piece of information, taking comfort in the fact that, if they actually made it, Cersei’s own son would be responsible for her mother’s death.

Two hours later, Arya sighed relieved as The Hound opened a grimy door and she found herself inside The Red Keep.

“Good to know the security of this castle is still a joke”, humoured Sandor walking towards the staircase in front of them to check they were alone.

As he watched him going down the hallway, Arya suddenly recalled that those same stairs leaded to Cersei’s chambers. 

She pursed her lips in a smile of excitement, but it vanished as she heard some Lannister soldiers at her back, walking in their direction. She beckoned The Hound to alert him and they hid behind the staircase.

“The Dragon Queen is here”, said one of them, making Arya and the Hound exchange looks of plain susprise.

“Go to the walls and prepare the crossbows.”

“That can’t be true”, replied another, visibly terrorized. “The Iron Fleet is protecting the castle-”

“Listen to me! The Iron Fleet is destroyed!”, the commander yelled as he shook him by the chest. “Do as I command and go to the walls!”

Arya watched in silence as three of the eight soldiers following his instructions without hesitation.

“You two, go to the gates of the castle", he said to a pair.

One of them nodded, but the other wasn’t so sure.

“But sir, wouldn’t it be better if we went to the gates of the city? Her army-”

“There’s no army, you idiot!”, his commander cut him with an exasperated tone. “She’s come alone, and she’s going to burn us all if you don’t do as I command.”

None of them dared to say another word.

“You three, come with me”, the man ordered to the rest of the soldiers, and they disappeared down the hall.

Arya didn’t move for a few moments, processing what she’d just listened to.

“Did you hear what he just said?”, she asked, swallowing hard. “Why would she come alone? And where is her other dragon?”

Sandor shrugged, unimpressed.

“Maybe she only needs one to burn the city to the ground”, he answered, before adding. “C'mon, let’s find the Queen on your list and my brother.”

Arya nodded and followed him through the castle, still lost in though.

_You don’t know her._

It was everything Jon had said when she and Sansa had told him they didn’t trust Daenerys.

It was true, she didn’t. But she didn’t need to know her to see that Jon was deeply in love with her, and therefore, partial in his judgement.

At Winterfell, it’d been terribly obvious to her that Daenerys shared his brother’s feelings. Her performance during the battle had done nothing but to prove her worth to Arya’s eyes.

However, Jon’s true parentage revelation had turned everything upside down.

And so, Arya felt uneased by the fact that Daenerys had come alone with her dragon. Because if that was true, where was Jon? Was he still alive? And even if he were, even if Daenerys won, would he ever be safe? Would she give up her crown for him when it’d cost her so much?

Arya's heart raced uncontrollably at the idea.

 _You’ll have to kill her_ , Arya realized. 

The thought of ending The Dragon Queen’s life made her sick. Jon would rather die than letting her hurt Daenerys, and even if it came to that and she actually had to kill, Arya was certain her brother would never forgive her for it.

“Watch out, kiddo”, Sandor growled, taking her out of her thoughts and pointing to the three people moving away from them down the hallway, two men and a woman.

Arya felt air escaping her lungs when she recognised the woman from behind. It was the woman she’d been wanting to kill for years. The woman who ordered Lady to be slaughtered, who smiled when her father’s head was chopped off by her hellish son’s orders, who procured her exile and Sansa’s public abuse and whose family butchered hers.

Rage grew inside her, and in a matter of seconds, she wasn't the cold killer she’d been trained to be anymore, but the girl who’d spent years in exile thinking her family was extincted. And so, lost in the painful memories that had come to her mind, she started running towards Cersei, not caring anymore about being seen or heard.

“Wait, wait!”, she heard Sandor’s voice behind her, but it was already too late.

“It’s done, your grace. We’ve got half an hour to leave the city before it burns”, the older men told Cersei.

“Good”, she replied, turning to look at the man, but then, she saw Arya from the corner of her eye and shock flooded her face for a second, right before she grabbed the other man's arm and screamed: “Sir Gregor!”

Arya realised Cersei had recognised her when she saw the terror in her eyes.

 _It’s time, Cersei_ , she thought, easily avoiding Sir Gregor’s huge body.

But then, the man who had spoken stood between her and Cersei.

“You won’t touch The Queen!”, he proclaimed, rising his arms in what looked like a gesture of protection.

Arya felt nothing as she sliced his throat with the same dagger she’d used to kill the Night King a few weeks ago.

Cersei screamed again when blood started gushing out, tainting the floor and Arya’s face. It didn't make her lose her focus, and she started walking towards her, but then she heard a whistle and she moved right before the Mountain’s sword hit her from behind.

Arya noticed that, even if the monster moved slowly, his touch was certainly deathly. While catching her breath, Arya saw Cersei running away down the hallway.

 _She’s going to the throne toom_ , she guessed, remembering the last time she’d been there.

But she couldn’t elaborate much more, as Sir Gregor came at her again. This time, the edge of his sword cut her forearm, making her hiss of pain.

“Go!!!”, Sandor yelled her from behind The Mountain, trying to hit him without much success.

Arya bit her lower lip, weighing her options. If she went after Cersei, there’s a strong possibility Sandor didn’t make it alive, as the Mountain was clearly insensitive to his attacks. But if she stayed and help the Hound kill his brother, Cersei would probably end up unpunished for her crimes. And that was something Arya wasn’t sure she could live with.

“ _Fucking go, girl!_ ”, Sandor yelled again, decanting the balance on the side of revenge.

Arya nodded to him, acknowledging his gesture of selflessness, as she knew if there wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t even be alive to begin with. She started running again, trying hard not to look back at the sound of swords clashing behind her.

It took her longer than she expected to find the way to the throne room and, for a moment, she thought she’d lost Cersei. But then, she heard footsteps in the marble and she grinned, sensing she’d found her prey.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she entered the throne room and saw Cersei running to the staircase beneath the Iron Throne. Arya recalled vividly the man’s words from before their encounter and where the door behind The Iron Throne leaded to, so she understood Cersei’s intentions at once.

“Leaving already?”, she asked calmly, loud enough to make her stop at once.

The Lannister Queen turned around immediately, and Arya couldn’t help but notice that time and wars had faded away her beauty.

“Arya Stark”, Cersei replied after a few seconds. Her voice leisurely and devoid of all fear. “How is it even possible that you’re still alive?”

“You can thank your late father for that”, she said reducing the distance between them. “He took good care of me during the time I spent in Harrenhal, right after you and your monster of a son slaughtered my father.”

Cersei didn’t even blink.

“You’re here to avenge your family”, she sighed dramatically. “How sweet. You remind me of your bastard brother, you know? You Starks are so honourably stupid-”

Arya’s jaw clenched.

“Do not dare to say a word about my family”, she cut her.

“Or what? You’ll kill me?”, Cersei questioned her with a self-sufficient smile. “Do it or don’t, as you like. Either way, you won’t make it alive.”

Arya approached her with the dagger in her hand, completely blinded by the rage that boiled inside her veins.

However, neither Cersei nor she got too far.

Earth began to shake under their feet and then, the wall behind The Iron Throne collapsed before her eyes.

She held her breath as Daenerys Targaryen's biggest and fieriest dragon appeared behind the rubble curtain. The roar of the beast reverberating in the room as it made the columns that supported the vault tremble.

Terrified and visibly paralyzed by fear, Cersei fell to her knees. Arya didn’t think twice before standing up and going after her.

The Lannister didn’t even registered her presence behind her until the blade of the dagger was against her throat.

“The North remembers”, Arya whispered to Cersei, but before she could apply any pressure, she heard Daenerys yell at her.

“Arya, don’t!”

Arya looked up and realized that she had dismounted her dragon and was now in front of them, just a few meters away.

“Why not?”, she asked. Her voice an amalgam of surprise and resentment. “She killed my family, and her family killed yours too. This is justice.”

Cersei stirred under her grasp, so Arya tightened the blade on her neck, feeling the warmth of the blood on her hand only seconds after.

Daenerys came closer with a sad smile.

“Believe me, Arya, I want to do it as badly as you do”, she admitted kneeling before her. “But she's with child.”

Shock hit Arya like a truck, as that was the last thing she’d ever expected to hear.

“If you killed her, you’d be taking her baby's life as well”, Daenerys explained, looking straight into Arya’s eyes. “I know it's not the first time you kill, but tell me, would you be able to live with that?”

The question made Arya froze. 

_Would I?_ , she wondered, trying to remember the person she was asking to.

The cold assassin she’d been trained to become or the orphan child who’d just reunited with her family.

**  
**

Daenerys could see the doubt dancing in Arya's eyes.

Jon hadn't told her much about her except that she had come back to Winterfell after years of being presumably death.

The fact that she was Jon's favourite sister was something Daenerys had guessed by the way he talked about her. It had nothing to do with the way he talked about Sansa. 

Later on, when she'd learnt Arya had been the one who had killed The Night King, her curiosity about the girl's story had only increased. A particular rumour had particularly caught her attention, saying that Arya had spent all those years training to become an assasin. 

And yet, at that moment, all Daenerys could see was a frightened girl who was reliving her past while holding a dagger to a pregnant woman’s throat.

“Arya, look at me”, Daenerys said to catch her attention. “I know she’s a monster”.

“You don’t know-”, Arya replied with a rage so pure that made Daenerys' heart ache with empathy.

“ _Believe me_ , Arya. I do”, she cut her, refusing to let her find the arguments that would lead her to make a fatal mistake. “She killed my dragon. She beheaded someone I loved dearly while forcing her partner and me to watch.”

Arya tensed at her words, and in that moment, Daenerys realised she had misunderstood her.

“So, you want her dead too”, Arya protested, sounding terribly offended. 

Daenerys didn't say anything. Instead, she nodded while holding her gaze just as she slowly put her hand over the one Arya had the dagger in.

“And she’ll die, when the time comes.”

Arya shook her head, disgruntled, but she didn’t reject Daenerys' touch.

“No, she won’t." Her voice was pure torment, as if she actually believed there was no other option. “If I don’t kill her now, she’ll escape. The Lannisters always leave unscathed.”

Thinking of Jamie Lannister, Daenerys couldn’t agree more. 

However, if she gave in to her own fears and let Arya get what she wanted, she’d not only be hold responsible for the baby’s life but for Arya’s soul.

And, even if he didn’t care for her anymore, Daenerys knew she wouldn’t be able to look at Jon’s face if that happened.

“Arya, I swear to you she’ll pay for everything she’s done”, she promised her as she squizzed her hand tightly. “But think of your father, think of Jon. What would they tell you if they were here?”

The girl shivered beneath her touch, making Daenerys realize she'd hit a nerve. 

**  
**

“My father is dead because of her”, Arya told her immediately. “And you know better than anyone that Jon isn’t smart when it comes to honour.”

Arya would have sworn a smiled crossed Daenerys' face.

“You're right”, The Dragon Queen admitted. “But this is not about honour, this is about how you want your beloved ones to remember you. This is how you want your brother or your father to feel about you when you meet again.”

Daenerys mentioning Jon and her father made her feel betrayed.

Who did she think she was? She hadn’t met Ned Stark, and even though it’d been a long time, Arya was sure Daenerys didn’t know Jon as well as she did.

_You’re a stranger. You’ll always be a stranger._

_Why am I even listening to you?_

Stranger or not, however, Arya couldn’t help but realise Daenerys was being selfless, as she would benefit immensely if Arya decided to kill Cersei nonetheless. Instead, The Dragon Queen was trying to get to see the consequences of her actions on a much deeper level, making Arya consider the kind of person killing an unborn child would make of her.

 _But I want Cersei to suffer. I want her to bleed out in front of me while life leaves her body_.

The rage she felt inside when she thought of everything her had suffered because of Cersei and her family was what had given her the strength to carry on. Every time she’d wanted to give up while training to be a faceless man, every time she’d gone to the pile where she’d hidden _‘Needle’_ the first time she’d arrived to Braavos, ready to run to Castle Black, that warm and familiar feeling had prevented her from doing it. Because if she weren’t ready, she wouldn’t be able to cross the few names atop of her list.

To be fair, Arya couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t felt that rage.

And now, Daenerys was asking her to let go of the only thing that had kept her alive all those years.

 _I can’t quit it_ , Arya lamented, _I don’t even know how to live without it_.

Then, Bran’s words about Ned Stark’s downfall came to her mind:

_“Father knew Cersei’s children were innocent of any crime, so he gave Cersei the choice to run away, so they wouldn’t suffer any harm.”_

When her father had been in her shoes, and he’d chosen to let Cersei and her children life. Because that was not only the honourable, but the human choice.

 _Am I still human?_ , Arya wondered, feeling terribly lost.

 _You’re not_ , said the voice inside her head. _But you’re a Stark. You’ll always be a Stark._

As soon as Daenerys saw tears running down Arya’s cheeks, a sigh of relief escaped her throat.

Arya’s hold against Cersei’s throat relaxed, but Daenerys kept her hand over Arya’s.

Then, it all happened too fast. Cersei grabbed Arya’s dagger and she sank it on the girl’s leg before standing up and running away. Arya howled in pain and Daenerys kneeled before her in absolute shock, trying to stop the haemorrhage with a piece of her cape.

But Arya took the cloth from her hands and shook her head.

“Go get her!”, she yelled at her.

Daenerys wanted nothing but to do that, but she wasn’t going to let Arya die, especially because it’d be her fault.

“Arya-”

“ _You promised me!_ ”, Arya screamed while offering her the dagger. “Go after her!”

Daenerys stood up and ran to the door she’d seen Cersei disappear behind. She kept the knife up while running down the staircase, as Daario Naharis had taught her many years ago.

Aside from the wights, she’d never fought anyone hand-to-hand, but she wasn’t as naïve as to believe Cersei would turn herself willingly. She’d had stabbed Arya without batting an eye, and she’d probably do the same to her if she gave her the choice.

_No, she won’t. She’ll rot in a cell until she gives birth._

_And then, we’ll all get justice._

At the end of the staircase, Daenerys found herself in what seemed to be the dungeons of the Red Keep. Viserys had told her the stories about what Robert Baratheon had done with the dragon skulls that during centuries hung from the throne room wall, and so Daenerys didn’t flinch when she found them all there. However, watching Balerion’s skull pierced by a spear set her insides on fire. The dragon had been the emblem of House Targaryen for centuries, a legend of flesh and blood.

Having Cersei desecrating his remains was something almost unbearable. The sound of steps behind her made her turn her gaze from the sight, only to find Cersei pouncing on her with a dagger in her hand. Daenerys dodged her blow narrowly, but it was enough to cause her to lose her balance and fall into the ground backwards. Cersei didn’t lose any time and tried to strike her again, cornering Daenerys to a wall. But when Cersei went after her with her dagger, Daenerys eluded her hit and grabbed her hand by the wrist, forcing her to drop the weapon.

“It’s over, Cersei!”, Daenerys exclaimed. She lowered her against the ground and felt her squirm under her body. “I don’t want to hurt your baby, but I will if-”

She didn’t even get to finish the sentence, as Cersei hit her with something in the head.

Feeling unsteady, she dropped her weapon and felt backwards, fighting hard to breathe again.

“Not so much for the Mother of Dragons, huh?”, Cersei mocked her, getting the dagger from the ground. “Knowing that you were Khal Drogo’s wife, one could think you’d know how to fight. What a true disappointment you’ve been”.

Even if she wanted, Daenerys couldn’t reply, as she felt bile going up her throat and the urgent need to throw up.

“You see, I was never pregnant. I said I was because I thought it’d benefit me, as it’s obviously done”, Cersei confessed with a grin as she knelt before Daenerys. “But I guess you already know what I mean. Eventually, you come to learn how to manipulate men around you. Just as you did with that puppet of Jon Snow, when you seduced him to bend the knee. It’s our way of survival.”

Daenerys eyes widened at Cersei’s disclosure. She’d played them all, and they’d fallen into her trap as she’d planned them to do from the very beginning.

Viseryon died for nothing, Rhaegal died for nothing, Missandei died for nothing… But surprisingly, what unsettled Daenerys the most was hearing Cersei imply that she’d manipulated Jon to pledge himself to her.

“ _Don’t you… dare… say… his… name_ ”, Daenerys babbled, trying to stand up vainly.

“Ah, so you _do_ love him!”, Cersei laughed, before pushing her again, so Daenerys remained in the ground. “That only makes you so much more pathetic.”

Daenerys didn’t say anything. She actually agreed with Cersei in that point: as far as Jon’s concerned, she was pathetic.

“Though I must admit I never thought you’d have the courage to overhear my brother’s advice and come here alone tonight. Brave, indeed, but simply stupid”, she added, running a finger along the edge of the dagger. “You should have let Arya Stark kill me.”

In the blink of an eye, Cersei had put the dagger against Daenerys’ throat, who still couldn’t do much to defend herself.

“Because when you play The Game of Thrones, you win or-”, Cersei stated, adding pressure to the dagger, and Daenerys smelled blood, knowing very well that in a matter of seconds, she’ll be dead.

“You die."

Arya’s raspy voice filled the dungeons and Daenerys’ eyes widened as bright red blood started to sprout from Cersei’s mouth and stained her face completely. Cersei’s body fell inert next to Daenerys and she looked up to Arya, who was barely standing in front of her and didn’t seem to be able to take away her gaze from Cersei’s corpse.

“Arya”, Daenerys whispered, thinking she probably hadn’t heard the Lannister talk the truth about her pregnancy, but Arya cut her.

“I know. I heard what she said.”

“I’m sorry-”, Daenerys started, looking at Arya’s injured leg, but the girl shook her head.

“She’s dead. That’s all that matters now.”

Daenerys didn’t reply. She didn’t feel that way at all. She inhaled deeply and tried to stand up on her own without success. Arya knelt before her and inspected her neck. Daenerys blinked repeatedly, trying to focus her face.

“Are you okay?”, Arya asked her, and Daenerys almost flinched at the worry that tainted her words. Daenerys nodded slowly.

“She hit me with something in the head”, she explained reaching the place Cersei had hit her in with her hand.

When she withdrew it, she saw fresh blood staining her fingers.

“C’mon, we need to get out of here”, Arya urged her, helping her standing up and leading her to the staircase.

“Why?”, Daenerys asked, visibly confused. “If anything, we should found a maester and send a raven-” Arya tightened her grip around her as if she feared Daenerys would fall at any moment.

“I heard Cersei’s maester talking to her before you found us. The city is about to burn.”

“What?”, she whispered, unable to process the information.

“Kings Landing will burn no matter what we do”, Arya repeated slowly, trying to make her understand. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

Daenerys faltered inevitably, feeling her world falling to pieces before her eyes. Although according to what she’d just witnessed, it was only natural that Cersei would rather destroy the city than let Daenerys rule it. Daenerys didn’t say a word and tried her best to collect herself. She let Arya guide her to the Throne Room again, where they found Drogon was waiting still for them. Still uneasy but willing to not let Arya see her fear, Daenerys mounted on her dragon before offering Arya a hand to join her. The girl looked at her with surprise.

“Are you sure?”, she said, and that was the first time Daenerys saw Arya doubt since they’d met. Daenerys nodded and tried to smile, knowing people often got nervous around dragons even if she just saw them as her children.

“Trust me”, she told her while helping Arya mounting.

Daenerys was about to command Drogon to get out of the Red Keep when Arya shouted: “Wait!”

Daenerys turned around to see a man gravely injured entering the Throne Room. She recognised him to be Sandor Clegane, the Hound, and one of the men that she’d rescued beyond the wall.

“What is he doing here?”, Daenerys asked, surprised to see him there.

“It’s a long story”, Arya replied while dismounting to meet the man and then to help him mount on Drogon.

“Your majesty”, the Hound ducked his head when seated behind Daenerys. “Thank you for saving my ass… Once again”.

Daenerys couldn’t help but smile at his boldness, especially knowing that the Hound wasn’t a very friendly man.

At that moment, the walls started to quake around them and the three exchanged looks seconds before Drogon took off. They’d had barely made it out of the Red Keep when Daenerys heard a bang behind her back. Daenerys turned her head around to watch the castle that had been the home of her House for centuries being destroyed in a matter of seconds as it exploded from within and bright green flames swallowed it They’ll think it was you, her inner dragon said inside her head while thinking of what was about to happen. All your sacrifices were for nothing. Only then, Daenerys thought of the Iron Throne.

All her adult life, she’d fought to sit on that chair, and she’d barely saw the thing when she’d arrived at the throne room as there were more urgent matters to attend. The sound of another explosion outside the Red Keep pulled her from her thoughts, right before another one much closer to them almost got Drogon down. Anger and fury aroused inside her at the thought of losing her last child, but she forced herself to stay calm while avoiding being devoured by the green explosions.

“The people”, Arya said behind her.

“They’re safe”, Daenerys replied, feeling relieved she’d done something right that day at least. “The Lannister army promised they’d escort them outside the city.”

“Well, looks like not all of them made it.”, the Hound commented pointing to the bell tower they had just seen blowing up.

Daenerys paled when she saw what he meant. The rumble of the tower had trapped at least a hundred people inside the city, and Daenerys felt air escaping her lungs when she heard them all screaming in fear. In that moment, Daenerys made a choice and led Drogon to the city’s front gate. She breathed relieved when she noticed most of the people had made it outside and the remaining of the Lannister army was with them. She landed her dragon and made Arya and Sandor dismount.

“What are you going to do?”, Arya asked when she noticed she didn’t do the same.

Daenerys smiled but said nothing, confirming Arya’s suspicions.

“Are you insane? You won’t make it alive!” Daenerys felt her heart tender at the girl’s words, as that was the most heartfelt thing she’d ever heard from Jon’s sister.

“Take care of him”, Daenerys told her right before making her dragon take off and go back to the burning city.

“Daenerys don’t do it!”, she heard Arya screaming behind her as Drogon roared beneath her.

Daenerys knew her acts might look suicidal to Arya, but again, the girl wasn’t aware of the fact that she had a special bond with fire. And even if she perished in her task, did it really matter? At last, what was left to her? Cersei and Sansa had taken everything from her. The one had procured to debilitate her legitimacy while the other had made sure she’d be hated among the people. Besides, Jon would be better off without her. Daenerys had realised it the last time he’d seen him, when they’d said their goodbyes. It’d been cold and unpersonal, as he’d made sure to avoid any physical contact between them.

Not only their relationship was over, but it was obvious to her Jon regretted it deeply. Daenerys felt the tears running down her face, as she wasn’t sure she could live knowing she was the biggest mistake of the person she had loved the most. Focus. There’re people who need you right now, her conscience rebuked her.

Collecting herself, Daenerys followed the sound of the screams in the thick smoke that filled the air. She checked most of the people they’d seen before were still alive and trapped, while some had perished because of new explosions.

“Move!!!”, she shouted, doing a gesture with her hands so they knew where to. Then, she commanded Drogon to burn the remaining wall that prevented the people from get out the city.

“Go!!! Get out!!!”, she yelled when the wall fell down and the flames dissipated. She saw the people running towards the breach in the wall and landed Drogon outside the city before coming back to the wall and starting to help to get out the ones who were slowed down because of their injuries or their children, ordering them to stay as far from the wall as possible once they’d made it outside the city. Just when she thought there wasn’t anybody left, Daenerys turned around to join the people, only to turn again when she caught the sound of someone crying among the flames.

Daenerys followed the sound and got into the city again, ignoring the screams of the people behind her. She could feel the green flames licking her and she noticed her clothes starting to vanish, but she didn’t feel any pain, so Daenerys walked among the debris trying to find the source of the crying. At last, she found it: trapped under a pile of rubble and surrounded by the flames, a little girl cried inconsolably. Daenerys didn’t doubt for a moment before kneeling before her and starting to remove the debris.

“It’s okay, don’t cry”, she told the girl, stopping for a moment to rub her cheek in an attempt to console her. “I’m going to get you out of here. It’s going to be okay.”

The girl sobbed and nodded before Daenerys started removing the debris again. She thought she was almost done when she heard a thunder behind her. Instinctively, she covered the little girl with her own body, trying to protect her.

Then, for the second time that night, Daenerys felt something hit her hard in the head, and the last thing she saw before everything went black were the green flames reflected in the girl’s eyes seconds before they ate her alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason why I didn’t mention Cersei’s pregnancy in the last chapter: in this story, Cersei isn’t pregnant. She never was.  
> It's the Middle Age and Medicine wasn't as accurate as it is nowadays, so her amenorrhea -absence of period- might very well be due to menopause and not a pregnancy.  
> That's what she and Qyburn were talking about when in S7x05 Jaime enters her chambers.  
> Then, while talking to her brother, she realises she’s losing him and so she resumes to use the pregnancy card to keep him by her side. She does the same with Tyrion a few episodes later.  
> Remember that Cersei wasn’t prepared for Daenerys' attack at that point, so she thinks that if she manages to make Tyrion pity her and he works to avoid the siege of the city from there on, she has a chance to win.  
> Telling Euron in S8 would be just another example of her cleverness.  
> In this chapter, when Arya and Daenerys talk in front of her about her pregnancy, she remains silent because she knows her fake pregnancy is the only thing that could prevent them to kill her. She obviously intended to escape in the beginning, and she would have probably made it hadn’t Arya first, then Dany, slowed her down.  
> To be clear, I don't personally think Cersei is just pure evil.  
> I do think she is clever, cunning and manipulative. Her father and her marriage to Robert taught her a lot. So, the way I see it, after losing her children and Jaime, power is what really feeds her soul, and she’ll stop at nothing to keep it because it’s all she’s got left.  
> But if she cannot have it, well… Then, no one should have it ;)
> 
> I guess some of you expected Jaime would be the one who killed Cersei in the end, but if Tyrion hasn’t been willing to hurt her sister, even after all she did to him, I don’t think Jaime would be. Besides, he wouldn’t have made to KL it on time, as Daenerys' attack was a complete surprise to everyone.  
> Arya doing it, on the other hand, seemed a lot more logical to me -even if her killing the Night King wasn't, but that's another story-.


	4. Nowhere To Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know... It's been way too long since the last update.  
> I hoped I'd be able to catch up in December during the holidays, but family matters and finals have taken over my life these last weeks.  
> Besides, it took me longer than I expected to write this one, as I changed my mind almost every day about certain details and some events.  
> Thank you so much for your continuous support, and specially to those who dedicate a few minutes to write their opinions. It makes my day that you like it that much 😊
> 
> Anyhow... Enjoy!

**_Fourteen days after The Fire of King’s Landing_ \- Blackwater Bay**

**JON**

Jon woke up to the Unsullied’s shouts and footsteps at the deck. He tried to understand what they were saying, but he was never good with Valyrian, so he only caught three words: ‘burn’, ‘city’ and ‘dragon’.

 _We’re in King’s Landing_ , Jon realised, feeling his heart race uncontrollably. _And if Drogon is here, there’s still a chance she survived._

However, Jon was aware that those were mere guesses, all fuelled by his own desires.

 _That’s all I can hold onto_ , he thought, recalling the many times he’d asked Grey Worm about Daenerys fate since they’d left Dragonstone. But the queen’s most faithful general wouldn’t even dare to look in his direction. Jon had always known that Grey Worm didn’t like him. Before he and Sir Davos had travelled to Dragonstone, he’d assumed the Unsullied would blame him for Rhaegal and Missandei’s deaths. And Jon couldn’t help but feel he had all the right to do so, as he held himself accountable for Daenerys’ early departure from Winterfell which, indirectly had led them to that point.

The moment they’d arrived at the island, Grey Worm had welcomed them with the shocking news that Daenerys had left to take King’s Landing all alone, right before executing Varys for treason and confining Tyrion to a cell. Jon shivered, shaken by the memory. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt that scared. Daenerys was completely alone. Of course, she had Drogon to protect her, but that didn’t take away the fact that the dragon was vulnerable to the Lannister’s spears. In a matter of seconds, Jon had watched his worst nightmares coming alive in his mind. And the way Grey Worm had told them, so collected, so serious and calm, had made him furious.

_Does he not care about her? Did he not think about the risks?_

Feeling rage and despair growing inside him, Jon had jeered Grey Worm about it, asking him how he could have let her go, knowing the risks her mission implied. The Unsullied had flinched at his inquiries and, reducing the distance between them, he’d told Jon with an icy tone:

“You left her. She went beyond the Wall to rescue you, and she lost one of her dragons for it. She made a truce with Cersei against her better judgement because you asked her. She let you ride Rhaegal because she knew you would be safer riding him. And all for what? For you to betray her trust and turn your back on her when you didn’t need her any longer? Oh, you can deny it as much as you want, but you know the truth, Jon Snow. If she dies, it’ll be your fault and your fault only.”

Jon knew Grey Worm was terribly right, but that hadn’t made his words any less hurtful. And so, carried away by anger and fear, he’d grabbed him by the neck and punched him in the face. Of course, the Unsullied that had been in the room had reduced him right away.

“You’re pathetic. The only reason you’re still alive is because our Queen made me promise I’d spare your life, but even now, you don’t deserve her mercy. You were never worthy of her.”

Then, following Grey Worm's command, the rest of the Unsullied had put him and Sir Davos into a cell without a word.

Days had passed, and Jon had found himself dangerously close to madness when, every time one of the soldiers had come to give them food and water, they’d refused to tell him if they had any news. Finally, Grey Worm had visited them one day, but only to inform them that they were sailing to King’s Landing. Ignoring deliberately Jon’s questions about Daenerys’ fate, the general had given him a piece of parchment with his name written on it. Jon had felt the tears welling up in his eyes the moment he’d realized what it was.

_“Jon,_

_Taking the Iron Throne back from the people that destroyed our family was the only thing that kept me standing for years. I’ve dedicated most of my life to it. I’ve bled, cried and lost too much for it. When you told me you were going to tell your sisters, I panicked. It was selfish of me, asking you to hide the truth, but I was afraid of Sansa’s response. Turns out I was right to be so, because she manipulated Tyrion and Varys is dead because of it. I understand you love her dearly but, please, don’t let her fool you: she’s playing Cersei’s same game. She won’t stop until she gets what she wants, and that, I’m afraid, includes more than you can imagine._

_I know that it sickens you now, what we used to have. I guess you also expected me to feel disgusted by it, but you need to understand I grew up hearing about brothers and sisters’ marriages among our family. At some point, I was told I’d eventually marry Viserys. I ended up marrying Drogon and my brother died soon after, making me the last living member of our family. Thus, I hadn’t put much thought into it until that night in Winterfell, when you walked away. I know the Faith of the Seven condemns those unions, so I suppose it’s only natural that you feel like you do._

_As for me, I’ve suffered enough in this life to waste something I know is good just because what other people may think, or to please a faith I don’t profess. The brief time we spent together… You were the closest thing to a home I’ve ever had. I want you to know that. If things had been different, if we’d had more time, I’d have never given you up. No matter the cost, no matter the consequences._

_Cersei’s reign is coming to an end, one way or the other. Probably mine is too._

_Yours always,_

_Daenerys”_

When he finished reading the letter, Jon realised his tears had wet the paper.

 _She’s the bravest of us both, she’s always been_. _And I’ve paid her sacrifices with cowardice and fear_.

Sensing his despair, Sir Davos had asked him what was wrong.

 _Everything_ , Jon had wanted to say, but he’d shaken his head vigorously, unable to respond. The old man hadn’t said anything else, knowing instantly he was not in the mood for a conversation.

A few hours later, a couple of Unsullied had led them to a boat. Jon had been shocked to learn that they’d be sharing their cabin with Tyrion, whose appearance was clearly as deficient as his state of mind.

He hadn’t overlooked the fact that, unless them, the imp was in chains. However, that had proven not to be a problem for him. He’d managed to convince Grey Worm to get him a certain amount of wine as a kind of last wish before his self-proclaimed imminent death. As for Jon, he’d refused to look at him. Tyrion was the living reminder of his sister’s betrayal and his own foolishness, and after Daenerys’ letter, he wasn’t sure how he’d react if the imp provoked him. Nevertheless, that hadn’t stopped the man from expressing his feelings and opinions without any kind of concern.

“You blame me for whatever you think she’s done”, Tyrion had guessed with a sad smile. “It’s okay. I blame myself too. I thought I could control her worst impulses but…”

“Her worst impulses?”, Jon had cut him immediately, outraged. “As far as I know, she went to battle alone because she didn’t want anyone else to die for her. She could have executed you for treason as well, for all that matters, but she didn’t. And no, I don’t blame you for her actions because, to my knowledge, she’s done nothing wrong.”

Tyrion’s look had darkened, but Jon hadn’t backed down.

“I know you love her, but she is dangerous. She burnt Rickon and Randyll Tarly alive because they refused to acknowledge her as Queen.”

“And? She gave them a choice, and they chose to die.”

“Would you have done it?”, Tyrion had asked then, his eyes shining.

“Yes, I would”, Jon had replied, and it was true. During his time at the Wall, he'd killed men for less. 

“I don’t believe you. What do you think will happen to Sansa when she refuses to kneel before her?”

Ah, Sansa… It was something that had been going around in Jon’s head since the moment he’d learnt she’d told Tyrion about his heritage. Since Jon could remember, she’d always been interested in being Queen. After the Battle of the Bastards, he’d tried to justify her actions by telling himself that it’d been a one-time issue. However, she’d kept plotting and conspiring behind his back, taking him for a fool that knew nothing. And for a while, he’d been willing to turn a blind eye on it, hoping her bad habits would eventually fade. But they hadn’t and Jon had come to realise that they’d never do, because that was just who Sansa was: a woman willing to sacrifice the woman he loved to gain power.

“If my sister’s old enough to betray my trust and defy my authority, surely, she’d be too to pay the consequences of it.”

Tyrion’s eyes had widened at the confession, which had made Jon slightly proud.

“I’m no longer the stupid boy you met at Winterfell, Tyrion”, his voice sounded bitter. “That boy was murdered by his own men because he let the wildings go through the Wall. It may have taken me a life and some stupid decisions, but I’ve learnt my lesson.”

The imp had frowned, but Jon had continued, nonetheless.

“And after all that’s happened, I only wish I could take my words back, that day on the beach. I should’ve supported her plan instead of yours. If I had, things would be different now”.

“Be careful with what you wish”, Tyrion had commented warily before taking a great drink from his bottle. “You will always be a threat to her, and you know that.”

Jon had shaken his head, resigned.

“If she wanted me dead, I’d already be ashes in the wind. She’s had plenty of opportunities”, Jon had stated, recalling how she’d saved him from the wights. “But you’ve made your mind about her, haven’t you? You’ve decided that she’s her father even before knowing the facts. Not doing your will doesn’t make her evil, Tyrion.”

Tyrion had pursed his lips.

“Facts? I’ll tell you some facts, Jon Snow… Aegon Targaryen… Whatever you call yourself those days”, he’d replied, visibly offended, while pointing outside the cabin. “She doesn’t care about the people anymore; she only wants power. She went to conquer a city knowing perfectly well that, in order to do so, she’d have to sacrifice thousands of innocents lives.”

“You don’t know that”, Jon had insisted, tired of the way Tyrion had determined to picture Daenerys.

“Oh, but I do know. Because that’s the kind of ruthlessness that’s to be expected from a person who is willing to kill a pregnant woman to get a fucking chair!”, Tyrion yelled, hitting the wooden ground with his fist.

Jon had exchanged somber looks with Sir Davos then, who, until that moment, had remained in absolute silence. From Tyrion’s words, he’d guessed Daenerys had known Cersei’s supposed state of being before going into battle. But even if Jon was shocked by the turn of events, he wasn’t so stupid to not note the fact that Tyrion had revealed Daenerys that piece of information at the last minute.

“How do you know it is true?”, Jon had asked after a brief pause. “She lied to you once, she tricked us all. Why would this be any different?”

Tyrion paled at what his words implyed.

“I know Cersei has done terrible things, but she’s still a person. At least, she deserved a fair trial and knowing her child would be safe”.

 _Would it be wrong, though?,_ Jon asked himself.

Cersei was responsible for Rhaegal’s death and she’d ordered Missandei’s beheading right before Daenerys’ eyes. As for Jon’s own family, Cersei was responsible for his father’s, Rob’s and Catelynn Stark’s deaths. Would it be wrong to answer injustice with justice, just for this time?

“Sure. Because, if it were the other way around”, Jon had said finally, irony flooding his words. “If Daenerys were pregnant and she’d just lost the war, your sister would grant her the same treatment.”

Tyrion had flinched, visibly taken aback by the fact that Jon refused to overlook his double standards.

“Daenerys was supposed to be different”, Tyrion had lamented after a few moments, and only then, while hearing pain tainting his voice, Jon had understood Tyrion’s real issue. At some point, he’d idolized Daenerys and now, he was unable to face the fact that his goddess was human. And, as such, she had her own sins and desires.

“She _is_ different, but she’s not a saint”, Jon had stated finally.

Tyrion hadn’t answered to that, and the rest of their journey to Kings Landing, they’d remained silent.

Only Jon and Sir Davos had exchanged some words over the food and the weather, both refusing to discuss any relevant matter in front of Tyrion, because at that point, they didn’t know what to make of him.

 _Although, by his state, I doubt he’d been able to hear us_ , Jon thought, looking in his direction for the first time in days. Tyrion was snoring heavily with a bottle of wine still in his hand.

“His hungover is going to be legendary”, Sir Davos commented, sitting next to Jon.

“He’s used to them, believe me”, Jon replied, recalling the time they’d shared at Winterfell and then at the Wall.

 _A lifetime ago_ , he thought.

The door opened at that moment and Grey Worm and five more Unsullied entered the cabin with a gloomy look.

“So?”, Jon asked him, fearing the worst, but the general didn’t say a word. “Is she okay?”

Grey Worm ignored him once again and addressed his soldiers in Valyrian. Next thing he knew, he was being escorted out of the boat along with Sir Davos and an utterly irritable Tyrion. The sun shined high above and, when he looked at the sea, Jon discovered what seemed to be the remains of the Iron Fleet still floating in the water.

However, when he looked around the Port, it didn’t seem to have suffered any damage at all. His anguish increased while on their way to the city, as he started to recognise the fire marks in the walls. Then, he realised the absence of the Red Keep in the horizon, and his heart sunk.

 _Did she really do it? Did she burn King’s Landing to the ground?,_ Jon wondered, feeling sick at the prospects of what was to come.

The closer they got to the city, the clearer it was for him that the city had burned entirely, and the sicker he felt. He didn’t dare to look at Tyrion or Sir Davos, knowing already what would be crossing their minds at that moment. Jon held his breath, but when they went up the staircase that communicated the Port to the city, he heard from afar the noise of people talking.

He looked at Davos, who seemed as surprised as he was, but said nothing. The moment they went pass the walls, the sight of hell welcomed them. The city had indeed burned, that much was obvious to anyone who had eyes. From what Jon could appreciate, barely a bunch of buildings were still standing. And it would have been a gruesome scene, if not for all the people that filled what was left of the streets. Some of them were trying to rebuild houses or parts of the walls that sorrounded the city, while others seemed to be just _living_ their normal lives. Jon noticed a group of laughing kids running before him and couldn’t help but wonder what exactly had happened there, as it didn’t look at all as he’d expected from what he’d seen from the Port.

Knowing Grey Worm would probably ignore him again, he stopped to approach one of the men that was trying to remove the debris.

He opened his mouth to ask, but then, he noticed Tyrion had frozen in front of a pile of debris.

“What is it?”, Jon asked him, tracing his look, but he saw nothing besides stones and ashes.

“This isn’t the work of dragon fire”, Tyrion whispered, kneeling and taking a bunch of the ashes into his hand. Jon noted the greenish tone they left on Tyrion’s skin. “This is wildfire’s”.

Jon noticed Tyrion gave Sir Davos a meaningful look.

“What does that mean?”, he asked, annoyed by the lack of explanations.

“It means Daenerys may have lighted the fuse, but I'm afraid the city was always supposed to burn”.

**_Three days after The Fire of King’s Landing_ \- King’s Landing**

**DAENERYS**

When Daenerys opened her eyes, all she could see was light.

 _Am I dead?_ , she wondered, as she couldn’t find the familiar tent she’d previously seen in her vision at the House of the Undying. It took her a minute to realise that it was the sunbeam that came through a window in front of her what was blinding her. She blinked repeatedly, trying to focus the rest of the place, but when she turned her head, a sharp pain in her head made her stop at once. Her heart raced uncontrollably, and she started to hyperventilate. It was as if someone had split it in half and was now playing with her brain, squeezing it so tightly that Daenerys groaned in pure agony.

“Bring me more milk of the poppy”, someone said behind her, and Daenerys assumed it was a man because of his voice, but she didn’t dare to try to turn her head again, as she was too afraid of making the pain worse.

The person seemed to understand her troubles and soon enough a man stood in front of her. He was older than she’d expected from the sound of his voice, with white short hair and a shaved beard of the same colour. Daenerys recognised his clothes as the ones Maesters usually wore, although the first time she’d actually seen one it’d been at Winterfell.

“Welcome back, your grace”, he said with a soft voice and a warm smile. “I’m Maester Blane.”

Daenerys didn’t move, as she’d just started to notice the pain fading away.

“Where am I?”, she asked after a few moments with a raspy voice.

“You’re in King’s Landing, your grace. We’ve established a sort of infirmary in one of the few buildings that survived the fire.”

_The fire…_

Daenerys heart stopped at once as memories started flooding her mind. Arya killing Cersei… The people running away from the city… Green flames engulfing the Red Keep… Drogon destroying the walls… The sound of a sob in the middle of a living hell…

“That little girl…”, she murmured, feeling her heart sink at the last memory she had of that night.

“We can talk about that when you feel better, your grace. There’s no rush…”

“No, no, no…” Daenerys protested, feeling her increasing pulse in her temples. “I need to know what happened… I need, I need… How… how long it’s been, since the battle?”, she cut him harshly, visibly shaken and out of breath.

The Maester’s eyes darkened and, for a moment, Daenerys feared he wouldn’t tell her anything at all. But then, he walked towards her and kneeled before her, taking her trembling hands into his.

“It’s been three days, your grace. Most of the people have survived, largely thanks to you and your dragon, from what I understand.”, he said softly. “You were found unconscious among the ruins by the common people and some Lannister soldiers. They brought you here.”

“And the little girl?”, Daenerys insisted.

The Maester looked down, confirming Daenerys’ worst fears.

“There was nothing left of her. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

“It’s a curse”, Daenerys corrected him, recalling instantly the way Viseryon, Jorah and Missandei had died.

 _I’m no longer able to save those I care about. One way or another, I’m forced to watch their deaths until the end_.

Daenerys felt tears running down her cheeks, and even if she knew it wasn’t like a Queen to cry in front of someone she barely knew, she didn’t fight against it. She couldn’t. She’d denied herself that relief for too long. At first, Maester Blane remained silent but, after a few seconds, Daenerys felt the old man’s arms drawing her to his chest.

And so, for the first time in years, Daenerys let herself go completely and started sobbing uncontrollably while a man she just met rocked her until she fell asleep, just as Viserys used to do when she was only an infant. 

When Daenerys woke up that night, she found the Maester reading a book by the candlelight on the desk work that decorated the room. She knew she should rest, she felt exhausted and every inch of her body ached, but she had so many questions she feared she wouldn’t be able to sleep without answers.

“How bad…” she started, but words died en her mouth. She cleared her throat and tried again. “How bad… was it?”

Maester Blane looked up over his book, visibly confused. 

“The fire”, she clarified while trying to sit up, taking her hand to her head in a reflex, but the pain she’d felt before was gone.

The Maester put his book aside and joined his hands in his lap before admitting:

“In all honesty, it’s the worst fire I’ve witnessed. As I told you, there’s only a few buildings still standing, victims are counted by hundreds and many of the survivors are badly injured”. He stood up and looked through the window. “But again, we all know wildfire is merciless. It’s a good thing you were not.”

Daenerys moistened her lower lip, but she didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure what to say. Before coming to Westeros, she’d have described herself as ‘merciful’ without hesitation, but now… Now that everything was over, now that she knew the cost, she wouldn’t dare to call herself that.

“Don’t fool yourself, Maester Blane. I am more than capable of being merciless too”, she said after a minute, before sitting on the edge of the bed and keeping her head down. “I came here willing to sacrifice whatever and whomever it was needed to take the city from Cersei.”

“Wars tend to get the worst out of the people”, Maester Blane said in a serious tone, before commenting the obvious. “You didn’t give in, though.”

“No, I didn’t, but that doesn’t make me a good person.”

Maester Blane shrugged.

“It’s not for me to judge you, your grace, but for the people.” Daenerys tensed at the thought.

“The people? That night, when I was about to burn the Red Keep, I saw their faces. I saw the way they looked at me”, she said while shaking her head, her heart aching at the memory. “Their homes have been destroyed and their families have died. It doesn’t matter if I didn’t know about the wildfire, it doesn’t matter how hard I tried to save them. I’m the Mad King’s daughter, I already know their verdict.”

Daenerys voice was bitter, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d been playing a game designed for her to lose. At that point, hate and prejudices were everything she expected from everyone. 

“Come with me”, Maester Blane ordered her after a few moments, walking towards the door. He opened it and made a gesture to Daenerys, inviting her to join him in the hallway. Daenerys moistened her lips and tried to stand up. Her body ached in response, but pain wasn’t as intense as her curiosity. She moved slowly but surely, and when she finally got to where he was standing, she received Maester Blane’s approval look.

“If they blamed you, if they wanted you dead, they could have easily killed you when they found you”, he said while grabbing her to lead her to the hall. Once there, Daenerys saw them: there were at least a dozen of people sleeping in the corridor.

“Who are they?”, she asked, utterly confused.

“They’ve been there since you were brought here. There’re more of them, but they take turns.”

“Why are they here?”, she asked again, unable to comprehend.

“They know that you chose to protect them, and they want to thank you for it. They refuse to leave, until you are well enough to personally meet them.”

Daenerys felt tears welling up in her eyes and, once again, she was unable to control her emotions. She put a hand to her mouth, trying to remain silent so they didn’t wake up.

“They don’t hate you, your grace. They worship you.”, Maester Blane told her with a warm smile, before urging her to go back to the room. “But, before you go back to sleep, we need to speak about some important matters.”

Daenerys blinked repeatedly, surprised by the sudden change of topic.

“What is it?”

“After you were found, I sent a raven to Dragonstone to inform your army of your victory. They’re supposed to arrive soon”, Maester Blane patted her hand, as if he was sure the knowledge would comfort her.

Daenerys nodded slowly, feeling slightly unsettled at the thought.

She desperately wanted to see Grey Worm, but the idea of reuniting with Jon made her nervous. She wasn’t even sure he’d come.

_Probably not. There’s no war to fight anymore, his debt is paid. He can go back to his family now._

“Anything else?”, she asked out of curiosity, as the Maester clearly didn’t seem done yet with the news. The old man gave her a look that made her shiver, before urging her to sit in the bed. Only then, he stood in front of her and asked what was troubling his mind.

“Do you know what this is?”, he asked.

He took Daenerys’ hands among his and pointed the tips of her fingers, which seemed to have been dyed dark purple.

“No”, she admitted, examining her hands by herself. “I hadn’t even noticed until now…”

Maester Blane swallowed hard.

“It’s called _purpura_. It’s a sign of a well-known poison.”

Daenerys arched a brow. She wasn’t surprised. It was something she’d expected since Jon had told he intended to tell Sansa and Arya. Varys’ face came to her mind then. She recalled the somehow triumphant way he’d stared at her in the middle of the night, right before she gave the order to Drogon. _Could it be…?_

“Am I dying?”, she dared to ask after a few moments of doubt. Maester Blane shook his head.

“No, you’re not. This particular poison is extremely lethal, your grace. Either the person who did this to you didn’t know much about poisons, or his or her goal wasn’t exactly to kill you.”

“What else?”, Daenerys questioned sarcastically.

“This poison thickens the blood, your grace. That’s why it’s sometimes used as a way to terminate a pregnancy. A very dangerous one.”

A familiar pain caressed her heart, but Daenerys forced a smile, nonetheless.

“That won’t be a problem, Maester. I can’t have children.”

Maester Blane’s eyes were full of surprise, as if he’d just realised something vital.

“You don’t know.”

Daenerys’ blood froze in her veins.

“What is I don’t know?”

“You’re with child, your grace”, he said with a soft voice.

Daenerys blinked repeatedly, as if by doing so, Maester Blane’s words would be less true.

_No. It cannot be. It cannot be true._

_**Eight days after The Fire of King’s Landing** _

Daenerys contemplated the ruined city from the window of her chambers. It was a sunny day, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel that warmth under her skin. Ever since the Maester had given her the news, she felt numbed and completely disconnected from reality. She’d given up her desire of becoming a mother a long time ago.

She’d bled again the day she’d reopen the fighting pits, but the nights she’d spent with Daario after that had only confirmed her suspicions: she’d never bear a living child. At first, it hadn’t mattered that much to her. She was a widow with three dragons and several wars ahead.

However, as time had passed and Tyrion had asked her about her succession, that old wound had slowly reopened. She’d always wanted to take back the Throne and rule the lands that for centuries had belonged to her family. Up until that moment, when Tyrion had voiced his concerns about her safety during the battle and the consequences that her death could bring, Daenerys hadn’t thought about the paradox that her dreams represented.

She wanted to dethrone Cersei so House Targaryen would be restored in power, but what about perpetuity? What happened after? The blood of the dragon would die with her, and Daenerys could do nothing to avoid it. And then, she’d fallen in love with Jon, which had only worsened the pain, making it almost unbearable.

 _Careful with what you wish_ , she thought looking down to her abdomen, hidden by the clothes they’d provided her with.

Now, she was with child but, as far as Maester Blane was concerned, the pregnancy was volatile, to say the least. The poison might have not killed her, but the effect it could have on her child remained unknown. The idea of her baby being harmed in any way made her heart sunk in despair but, at the same time, Daenerys couldn’t imagine what Jon would feel if he came to find out.

_He’d be disgusted, as he's been by everything related to me since the moment he found out._

Daenerys shook her head, feeling the tears pricking in her eyes at the thought.

Even now, when everything she held dear was threatened, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him or despise him, although she knew that she should, for her own safety. Any other monarch would have killed him by now. Politically, it’d be the most sensible thing to do. It was a matter of time people learnt the truth of Jon’s parentage and, as long as he lived, Daenerys would be defiled and threatened by those nobles who thought him more suitable than her for the task. Sansa Stark would surely be one of them, and Daenerys was painfully aware Jon wouldn’t budge an inch against her sister. He hadn’t done it in the past, and he wouldn’t do it now.

But if he found out about their child, would he do it? Would he support his new family against his old one?

As painful as it was, Daenerys knew the answer right away. And so, she realised that, in order to protect the life that now grew inside her, she’d sacrifice everything else.


	5. The Wild Game of Survival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know it's been almost a month since the last update, but life got hectic and I have to admit I struggled finding the right words to describe Daenerys’ feelings at this point, which ended up delaying the whole process.  
> On the higher note, it's a very long chapter ;)
> 
> Once again, thank you all so much for your love towards the story. Honestly, I was owerwhelmed by the stupendous response the last chapter had ♥

**DAENERYS**

“Your grace,” Maester Blane’s deep voice resonated in the room.

Daenerys opened her eyes suddenly. 

“There’s someone here who is demanding to see you.”

Daenerys arched an eyebrow, sceptical, as she sat on her bed. A few days ago, she’d got out of her room for the first time, in hopes of meeting all the people who had been praying non-stop for her recovery. However, she’d been informed by one of the healers that Maester Blane had asked them all to abandon the building. Daenerys was furious. She’d demanded to see the Maester immediately and she’d told him he had no right to kick them off as if they were nothing more than a nuisance. He had assured her that they’d understood the situation and they’d been happy to oblige under the implicit promise that she’d meet them when she got better.

Daenerys had tried to protest, but then, the old man had expressed his concerns about the effects that being around so many people and wandering around could have on her pregnancy. It was something she hadn’t really thought about. The last time she’d been pregnant, she’d rode her horse daily until the very end of it. Walking and meeting people had seemed so harmless in comparation… Nonetheless, Maester Blane had insisted she should stay in bed for another week at least. No visitors allowed.

And so, when the door opened, and the he told her about her visitor, Daenerys couldn’t help but smirk. Whomever it was, he’d probably had to bully the old man if he’d agreed to let him see her.

“Who is it?” She asked.

“He says he’s the commander of your army. Gre…”

Before Maester Blane could finish trying to pronounce his name, Grey Worm broke into the room. Daenerys couldn’t help but notice that, for a man as calm as he usually was, her dear friend was visibly agitated.

“Torgo Nudho.” Her voice was a mere whisper, but enough for him to hear it. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he ran across the room and hugged her so tightly that Daenerys could feel air escaping her lungs. His hold felt so familiar to Daenerys, that she didn’t hesitate before hugging him back with the little strength she had left.

“Careful, careful!” Maester Blane urged them from the doorway.

She felt Grey Worm tense against her, but Daenerys smiled broadly and dismissed the man’s concerns:

“It’s okay, Maester. I’m okay.”

He didn’t reply, but Daenerys heard the door closing after a few seconds.

As for she and Grey Worm, they stood like that for a while, holding each other in silence, before he said:

“It had been almost a week by the time the raven arrived at Dragonstone. I thought…”

Daenerys’ body turned rigid at what he was implying.

“I know.”

“Please, your grace, don’t do something like this ever again.” Grey Worm murmured against her hair, and even though his words were a plea by themselves, it certainly sounded more like an order.

Daenerys laughed nervously and rose her hand to wipe away the tears that had come to blur her eyes.

“I had to", she replied, pulling away slightly so she could face him.

“Ever since that day at the Plaza of Pride, you’ve always protected me. I used to be okay with that, because I was able to protect you too. But after what happened to Sir Jorah, to Rhaegal, to Missandei… I…” As always, her voice broke when she thought of all the people she’d lost in the war, and she had to inhale deeply a few times before trying to speak again, unable to control her own emotions for the umpteenth time. “A good Queen protects her people. No matter the cost. I couldn’t have anyone else dying for me.”

Grey Worm pressed his lips.

“You didn’t have to come here alone to prove that. The Unsullied, the Dothraki… All the people who followed you from Essos knew it. We already knew that, and we would have fought for you until the end.”

Daenerys shook her head.

“That’s not what I wanted. We lost too many people in The North. After what happened at Dragonstone we were at a disadvantage. If I had waited any longer, Cersei would have crashed us. I did the only thing she didn’t expect me to do.”

Grey Worm’s face paled and his expression hardened when hearing the Lannister’s name.

“Did you kill her?” He asked, his voice as cold as ice. “Did you avenge Missandei?”

Daenerys pursed her lips. It was something she’d promised him right after coming back from King’s Landing. That, when the time came, she would burn Cersei Lannister alive.

“She _is_ dead”, she answered. “But I wasn’t the one who did it.”

Grey Worm didn’t say a word, but Daenerys realised he was disgruntled by the fact and her heart ached in response. She hated to disappoint him.

“Come”, she said then, gesturing for him to take a seat on the chair usually reserved for Maester Blane. She sat on her bed and sighed: “I’m afraid it’s a long story.”

She told him about the battle and how the city had easily fallen in a matter of hours. She told him she’d been determined to burn The Red Keep, until she’d seen all the people screaming, trapped among its walls. And then, she told him what had happened in the Throne Room.

“I wanted Arya to do it so badly. It would have been so easy to let her do the dirty work…” She admitted, recalling the feeling that had burned in her veins when she’d seen the Stark girl putting a knife to Cersei’s throat. “But I couldn’t do it.”

Grey Worm shook his head.

“Why not? She was a monster. She deserved to die.”

“She did.” Daenerys conceded. “But her child wasn’t, just as I wasn't when Robert Baratheon sent assassins to kill me when I was just an infant. I thought that, if I crossed that line, then I'd become one of the same monsters I'd been fighting for years. That's why I convinced Arya to let her live until she gave birth.”

Grey Worm’s brow frowned.

“Then, why…?”

“I underestimated her… again.” Guilt and rage transpired through her words. “She wounded Arya and ran away to the dungeons. I went after her and tried to reason with her, but it almost cost me my life.”

Grey Worm’s clenched his jaw.

“What happened?”

“She hit me in the head and disarmed me. Then, she showed me how utterly stupid and naïve I had been.” Daenerys admitted plainly, touching the wound in her head instinctively. “She wasn’t pregnant. She never was. It was all a trick to make Tyrion dissuade me from attacking the city at any cost.”

“And then?”

“Well, she was about to cut my throat when Arya Stark stabbed her from behind. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive.”

Grey Worm tensed, but he didn’t say a word. Daenerys didn’t need to ask to know what was troubling him.

“You don’t understand why she did it.”

It was something she’d reflected on since the moment she woke up in the hospice. At first, she’d thought Arya had saved her because, as stupid as it was, even in such special circumstances, she didn’t want to let Jon down. Now, she wasn’t sure at all.

Grey Worm’s gaze darkened in front of her.

“I don’t need to understand it.” He snarled, and Daenerys was taken aback by the hate that his voice transpired. “She may have saved you, but her sister wants you gone. So, whatever motive she had to do it, I don’t trust her. Just as I don’t trust her stupid brother.”

Daenerys froze at the mention of Jon. Although she’d always known Grey Worm wasn’t fond of Jon, the Unsullied hadn’t ever referred to him in such terms. Not so long ago, she would have reprimanded her friend for his words, but at that moment, as much as it broke her heart, she couldn’t help but agree with him.

“ _Torgo Nhudo_ , I…” She started to formulate an apology, but he didn’t let her finish.

“He’s here.”

Daenerys heart skipped a beat as she instinctively put a hand over her abdomen.

“ _How?_ ”

Grey Worm didn’t seem to notice the odd gesture and went on with his explanations.

“Apparently, Lord Tyrion wrote him before you imprisoned him.” He stood up and headed to the window. “He arrived at Dragonstone the same day you left.”

Grey Worm paused for what felt like an eternity, and Daenerys cocked an eyebrow, clearly impatient for him to continue.

“Under what premise?”

The Unsullied turned towards her.

“He wanted to see you. I told him that you had decided to take the city on your own and he… He went mad. I had to lock him and his companion in the dungeons.”

Daenerys pursed her lips, trying hard not to let disappointment take over her.

“That does not surprise me. After all, he was the first to support Tyrion’s plan.”

Her friend shook his head.

“He didn’t care about that, your grace. He was mad I didn’t stop you.” It was more than obvious Grey Worm didn’t take any pleasure on giving her that piece of information. “What I mean is that he was worried about you.”

Daenerys remained silent and Grey Worm turned again to watch the skyline of the ruined city, right before adding:

“He is a fool and, as I said, I don’t trust him, but... he is in love with you.”

Daenerys looked away. Those words hurt her more deeply than all the wounds she had got during the battle. Not so long ago, Tyrion had told her the same thing about Jon. She’d been stupid enough to believe him then, to let her own feelings for him intoxicate her judgement. But she’d learnt her lesson.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Grey Worm turned around with a questioning look on his face.

"I’m with child", Daenerys admitted as calmly as she could. She trusted Grey Worm with her own life, but her condition was still so fragile, that the mere idea of discussing it with someone else aside from Maester Blane solely terrified her.

Grey Worm’s eyes widened.

" _Mhysa_ , that’s… that’s… Great news", he congratulated her as he approached and kneeled before her, before doubt started dancing in his eyes. "But…"

Daenerys guessed immediately what made him confused. He didn’t have to ask to know who the father was. He’d assumed it because he’d seen Jon entering her chambers too many times.

“I don’t want him to know, _Torgo Nhudo_. I don’t want anyone else to know. It's not safe”, she managed to say. “I was poisoned.”

She rose her hand to show him her dark fingertips and, watching Grey Worm's expression hardened, she added:

“The Maester says I’ll be fine, but he doesn’t know if the baby will make it.”

Grey Worm paled.

“You think he could...”

It wasn’t a question, and Daenerys noticed at once the belated threat his words hid.

“No.” She quickly dismissed his hypothesis. “I think it was Varys. There’s no way to be sure, of course, but as soon as he learnt the truth about Jon, he wanted me gone. You heard it yourself. I guess the only reason I’m not dead is because I killed him before he could finish the job.”

“ _Slenkdor vodrätis_ ”, Grey Worm cursed, but Daenerys shook her head again before giving him a sad smile.

“As I said, it doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done. The only thing that worries me now is the future of this child. That’s why no one can know.”

Grey Worm closed the distance between them and took her hands between his.

“I’ll protect you both with my life. You know that.” He promised her. Daenerys nodded in both acknowledgement and gratefulness.

“Your grace, you know… you… you won’t be able to keep it a secret much longer.”

Daenerys looked down to her abdomen. That was certainly the part of her plan that disgusted her the most.

“I don’t plan to be here when that time comes", she confessed, steading up heading to the window in search of fresh air. “I… I’ve been thinking about going back to Mereen.”

Grey Worm didn’t say a word, but his silence was more than eloquent for Daenerys.

“Daario and The Second Sons would protect me, so you and the rest of the Unsullied would be free to live a different live. Go to Naath, perhaps. Missandei would have liked that.”

She sensed Grey Worm’s presence behind her, but she didn’t dare to face him. Her heart ached at the thought of losing the last person she had come to love as family that was still alive. But again, she knew she was being terribly selfish by merely suggesting it to him. Her desire to conquer the lands of her ancestors had cost her two of her children and many of her friends, but Grey Worm… He had paid one of the higher prices, if not the highest.

“She’s not here anymore. And there’s nothing for me or my men in Naath”, he finally said, and Daenerys could feel the anger and the pain that transpired his voice in her own veins. “We were taken from our families, but you gave us another by saving us. And family stays together, your grace. Always.”

Daenerys felt a lump forming in her throat and, again, tears ran free across her cheeks.

“Wherever the Queen goes, the Unsullied and I go”, Grey Worm sentenced then, though she already knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. “But… Your grace, we all fought so you could take what was yours. If we go back to Mereen, then… We fought for nothing. Missandei died for nothing.”

Daenerys lower lip trembled.

“I know”, she admitted with a broken voice. “But there’s nothing left for me here, _Torgo Nhudo_. The people of Westeros… Some of them might like me now, but they won’t when they learn about the child. And as soon as the nobles know about Jon’s true parentage, they’ll support him instead of me. We can’t afford another war, and I can’t take any more more blood on my hands.”

Grey Worm’s expression darkened.

“What about what Lord Tyrion suggested?”

Daenerys gave him a bitter smile, knowing what he was referring to.

“The last time we spoke, Jon made very clear that he didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I don’t think that’s the case anymore”, Grey Worm replied, and she realised that he was making a great effort on her behalf by taking Jon’s side on the matter.

“Maybe”, she conceded, then she wondered: “But what if he changes his mind again? Even if he doesn’t, we both know he won’t stand against his family for me.”

“It’s not just you anymore, your grace. If you told him about the child, maybe…”

“ _No_ ”, Daenerys cut him immediately, touching her abdomen possessively. “I don’t trust him, and telling him would only complicate things.”

“What do you want me to do?”, Grey Worm asked her after a brief silence.

“I don’t know", she admitted, chagrined. “Honestly, I’m not sure I’m interested on ruling anymore. I just want… I need peace.”

Grey Worm remained silent, and Daenerys could only imagine how much of a shock that revelation would be for him. However, the existence of her unborn child and the fact that someone had already tried to hurt it had put things into perspective. For years, she’d dreamt of bringing to Westeros some of the changes she’d brought to the Slavers Cities. Taking back the Throne that had belonged to her family for centuries had been a crucial part of the plan too. But now that she’d got what she’d always thought she wanted; she’d just realised she wasn’t willing to pay the price that playing _‘The Game of Thrones’_ required of her.

“When we arrived at Dragonstone, I was so sure of myself… I wanted to change things. I wanted to give the common people a more prosper life. I wanted everyone in Westeros to be able to read and educate themselves. I wanted girls to have the same rights as boys. I wanted…”

“Then, stay!”, Grey Worm pleaded, and only then, Daenerys noticed how personal this was for him. “Stay and fight for those who can’t, as you did for us in Astapor, Yunkai and Mereen.” She smiled fondly at the memories. Happier times, she couldn’t help but think.

“You know I can only try to achieve such things from a position of power, _Torgo Nhudo_. And I don’t want to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms if that means starting a Civil War or having my baby murdered in his crib.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that. Your army is loyal to you, we will protect you both”, he protested. “Besides, if we go back to Mereen, what happens to the people you saved here? Who would take the Throne if you don’t?”

Daenerys pressed her lips, visibly surprised by the passion his words transpired. It was the first time since they’ve known each other that Grey Worm had tried to persuade her about anything. Not so long ago, he usually abided by her orders in complete silence. Only occasionally, he dared to express his opinion over certain matters, mostly war and battle related. Listening to him oppose to her so openly made her feel strangely proud.

“Jon would make a good King”, she tried him, squinting. “He’s kind and fair. He would take care of the people.”

Grey Worm’s jaw clenched.

“He’s not you, your grace”, he replied at once. “He’s weak. His sister will do what she wants with him.”

Daenerys couldn’t refrain a smile. She still recalled the way the Stark lady had conducted herself at Winterfell, as if she owed her nothing and she was disgusted by her mere presence. But most of all, she remembered painfully the way Jon had acted in her presence, as if he was only a boy being bullied by her little half-sister. It had reminded her of the effect Vyseris had once had over her.

“That’s what I thought too.”

Grey Worm gave her an inquisitive look.

“So? What are you going to do about it?”

Daenerys cocked an eyebrow.

“What do you propose?”

“Take the power away from her”, Grey Worm didn’t even blink.

“And how would I do that?”, Daenerys protested. “I cannot touch her without having the North declaring an open rebellion. Jon might join them too. And the Vale.”

“In Mereen, Lord Tyrion taught me and Daario Naharis to play _cyvasse_. He taught us many moves.” Grey Worm explained. Daenerys couldn’t say what surprised her the most: that he had agreed to play with them or the turn that the conversation had got. “Daario’s favourite was one called _The Illusion_. You actively sacrifice a weapon or a land, so your enemy thinks he’s got some advantage over you. After that, he starts making mistakes. His downfall is only a matter of time.”

“You want me to grant her the North", Daenerys ventured.

“Not exactly”, Grey Worm replied, his voice full of a dark calmness that made Daenerys shiver. “Sansa Stark is a woman. You said it yourself: women always come second to men.”

Daenerys tensed at the idea of what she thought he was suggesting, and as Grey Worm went on explaining the details of his plan, she realised the huge mistake she’d made by letting Tyrion take the lead while planning her invasion. Not because he was a bad strategist, but because he was emotionally involved with the same people that she wanted to destroy. The same strategy that Grey Worm was proposing her has been in Tyrion’s mind for years. The only difference was that, unlike Tyrion’s, Grey Worm’s loyalty was undivided and totally hers.

Although the same could be said about Daenerys.

Before their departure from the East, she’d been willing to tame the North just as Aegon The Conqueror and his sisters had done once: with fire and blood. Now, she had to choose between her love for Jon and paying Sansa Stark with the same coin. An impossible choice and terribly similar to the one Tyrion had had to face.

Yes, their choices had had hurt her more deeply than she could ever express.

But being there, standing with Grey Worm by her side, Daenerys felt stronger and sure of herself for the first time in a long time. In fact, she felt a strength she thought long forgotten, a strength that dared her to put aside her animosity towards Tyrion and try to see the bigger picture.

Daenerys would never trust him the way she’d done in the past. Of that much, she was sure. However, if she wanted Grey Worm’s plan to succeed and, more importantly, to bring the peace she herself longed for to the Realm, she needed him by her side. So, when a few hours later, Grey Worm asked her about the imp’s fate, Daenerys didn’t hesitate before replying:

“Keep him comfortable. I’ll go visit him as soon as I can.”

Grey Worm nodded in acknowledgement.

“And Jon Snow?”

Daenerys expresion darkened.

“Free him.”

Grey Worm’s brow furrowed.

“He'll come and find you as soon as he learns where you are.”

“I know. But I cannot hold him prisoner only because I don’t want to see him”, Daenerys concluded with a sad smile.

Grey Worm didn’t say a word. He nodded again and turned around to abandon the room, leaving Daenerys alone to her thoughts.

**JON**

“Wake up.”

Jon blinked repeatedly when he heard Grey Worm’s voice behind him. He assumed they were alone, as the Unsullied had separated him from Sir Davos and Lord Tyrion as soon as they’d got to the semi-ruined building that was being used as a prison of some sort.

“So now you speak”, he sighed sarcastically while sitting on his cot. Jon appreciated how Grey Worm’s jaw clenched.

“Do not provoke me, Jon Snow”, he said with a very heavy Valyrian accent. Then, he threw Longclaw and his dagger to him. “Go. You’re free to leave.”

Jon’s brow furrowed at what that implied.

“You’ve seen her”, he gruntled. The Unsullied didn’t say a word, but his silence was more than enough for Jon. “Is she okay? Where is she now?”

Silence flooded the room again, and Jon stood up and went pass Grey Worm, assuming he wouldn’t reply to that either.

“The Queen will meet with you today. At sunset.”

Jon’s stopped at the idea of reuniting with Daenerys.

“Where?”

Grey Worm pursed his lips.

“You’ll know when the time comes.”

Jon snorted and turned around to face him.

“What’s that even suppose to mean?”, he retorted, but once again, Grey Worm decided to gift him his cold silence.

Jon shook his head and stormed out of the room, knowing he wouldn’t be able to bite his tongue much longer. He walked the halls through which the Unsullied had led them upon their arrival, only to find Sir Davos waiting for him at the main entrance.

“I was fearing he’ll never let you out”, the man greeted him with a grin, and Jon refrained a smirked. “Though I suspect we owe our freedom to the Queen and not him.”

Jon nodded in agreement.

“She wants me to meet her today”, he said, trying hard to conceal both his excitement and fear.

Sir Davos smiled softly.

“That’s good news, isn’t it?”

As much as Jon wanted Sir Davos to be right, he couldn’t help but feel discouraged by the fact that Daenerys had used Grey Worm as messenger instead of going to him directly. Maybe she was wounded during the battle and still recovering... 

“What about Lord Tyrion? Are they going to free him too?”, Jon asked then, trying to dissipate his anguish.

Sir Davos shook his head.

“Doesn’t seem likely.”

Jon sighed. As much as he didn’t like the situation, that revelation didn’t surprise him. After all, Tyrion had committed treason and didn’t seem repentant in any way.

He followed Sir Davos in silence to the street and the bustle of the street surprised him once again. The bright midday sun welcomed them as Jon the reconstruction of the city was still on going. He hadn’t been in King’s Landing before the fire, but something told him that its citizens were in no way like Winterfell’s. They’d lost their homes and their loved ones, and the destruction the wildfire had caused was still tangible in every stone, but they seemed joyous and cheerful whatsoever.

“Well, where to, milord?”, Sir Davos asked him. Jon opened his mouth to reply that he had no idea of what to do, but words die in his chest when a familiar voice behind them made them an offer:

“What if we give you a tour?”

Jon turned around to find Arya and Sandor Clegane standing in front of them. They looked horrible, with dark circles under their eyes and bruises all over their face. Jon noticed it was the same appearance they’d all got after The Battle of Winterfell.

“Arya”, Jon exhaled, breathless, as he hugged her with all that he had. “What are you doing here?”

His sister and The Hound exchanged looks, and Jon’s brow furrowed at the odd familiarity that existed between them.

“It’s a long story.”

“A very shitty one”, The Hound added showing off his well-known sarcasm.

"Besides, I could ask you the same. How did you end up as a prisoner of your Queen?", Arya asked, visibly annoyed by annoyed by the fact.

"Technically, I was Grey Worm's prisoner. She had nothing to do with that", Jon answered with a sigh, but he could feel his sister distrust tangibly.

“Wait, how did you…?”, Jon started to ask, noticing the fact that Arya had no way of knowing he had been arrested, but his sister shook her head dismissively.

“Come." Arya made them a gesture for Sir Davos and him to follow them among the crowd, and Jon, with his head spinning around with all the questions he had, did as she asked. They took them to a tavern that, against all odds, remained intact.

“Four beers",The Hound ordered as soon as they got in and they sat at a table in ceremonious silence.

Jon sat in front of Arya and looked at her inquisitively.

“Well?”

His sister seemed exhausted, as if she’d aged a thousand years since the last time they'd seen each other at Winterfell.

“What do you want to know?”, her calm tone baffled Jon.

“Why don't you start by telling me what were you thinking when you decided to come here in the first place?”

His voice was bitter, and Arya noticed it at once. He couldn't help it, though.

“I came to kill Cersei,” she said bluntly, as if that explained everything.

Jon gaped. While his stay at Dragonstone, Sansa had told him in one of her letters that, during her years in exile, Arya had joined a group of assassins in the East. At first, Jon had thought that his sister was delusional, but then, he’d met Arya in the Godswood and the tone she’d used and the way she’d conducted herself had given him chills. Having her, of all people, killing The Night King had only confirmed what he already suspected. 

“And? Did you kill her?”, he asked her as calmed as he could. 

“Yes”, she replied, as if the fact actually gave her peace of some sort. “Though I must admit that, if it weren’t for your Dragon Queen, I wouldn’t be here now to tell you.”

Jon’s eyes widened.

“How…?”, he whispered.

“Sandor and I travelled from Winterfell and arrived here right before Daenerys’ attack that night. Of course, no one expected her, so with chaos reigning in the city, sneaking in The Red Keep was easy.”

Arya made a brief pause to give a taste to her beer.

“Sandor took care of his brother and I went after Cersei. I was about to cut her throat when your Queen appeared in the Throne room mounting her dragon.”

Jon exchanged meaningful looks with Sir Davos. The man looked as shocked as he was.

“She tried to persuade me about letting Cersei live. Apparently, Tyrion had told her she was pregnant.”

“You didn’t…”, Jon ventured. Arya cocked an eyebrow.

“Kill a pregnant woman?”, Arya inquired with a bold note in her voice. “I was close, so-very-close. Daenerys convinced me to do otherwise. She promised me she would make Cersei pay after the child had been born.”

A wave of both proudness and relieve hit Jon then. Even after all that he'd seen, he still saw her as his little sister. And he knew first-hand how doing something like that could affect someone's state of mind. 

“What happened then?”

Arya rolled her eyes and The Hound grinned next to her.

“Then, Cersei stabbed me and run away." It was obvious that the fact bothered her terribly. “Daenerys went after her, but things got… Complicated.”

“What do you mean?”, Jon asked, visibly worried.

“Apparently, Cersei disarmed her. She hit Daenerys in the head and told her that she had never been pregnant. It was all a trick so Tyrion would hold Daenerys back.”

Jon’s jaw clenched as he recreated the scene in his mind. To think that Arya and Dany could have died for a lie aroused an unknown rage for him until that moment.

“Cersei was about to kill her, when I stabbed her from behind.”

Jon sighed, visibly relieved.

“What happened after that?”, Sir Davos asked then, clearly intrigued. “We saw The Red Keep destroyed from the harbour. How did you escape?”

“The fucking same way we did after our excursion beyond the Wall”, Sandor Clegane answered while wiping his mouth with his hand. “Daenerys Targaryen and her dragon saved our asses.”

Jon cocked an eyebrow and looked directly at Arya. In the outside, his sister remained cold and collected as always, but Jon appreciated a familiar shine in her eyes. The same shine she’d got whenever she talked about Visenya and Rhaenyra Targaryen when she was just little girl and she dreamed of riding her own dragon once. In the light of the events, though, the thought turned out bittersweet, as it was the first time since he'd learnt of his death that Jon let himself think about Rhaegal and the brief time they'd spent together.

“Cersei had hidden wildfire all over the city”, Arya said then, avoiding Jon’s gaze. “We heard some Lannister soldiers say that Daenerys had destroyed The Iron Fleet and the walls where the crossbows stood, but she had nothing to do with the burning of the city.”

Sir Davos nodded and asked what no one else dared to ask: 

“How many dead?”

“Thousands", she replied looking down, and Jon could only imagine the horrors she'd seen. "But they could have been many more, I suppose. We’ve heard that, before attacking The Red Keep, Daenerys asked some renegade Lannister soldiers to put the people safe. Many people had left the city before the explosions started.”

“Why are you not with her now, then?”, Jon asked then, unable to refrain his impatience.

Arya bit her lip.

“When we left The Red Keep, we saw some people trapped among the debris. She left Sandor and me at the gates of the city and she and the dragon fled to help them. We haven’t seen her since then.”

Jon’s heart skipped a beat. However, he didn’t have much time to digest that piece of information as Arya went on explaining the aftermath of the burning.

“It took a day for the fire to die, and when it finally extinguished… Well, we’ve heard some stories. Apparently, she was found among the debris. She seemed unharmed, but she was taken immediately to the hospice.”

“Where is this hospice?”, Jon demanded to know, feeling his heart about to explode of pure content. He’d been so selfish, so utterly stupid… And he wanted to apologize Daenerys for his mistakes. He needed to. “I have to see her. Now.”

“Jon, calm down.” Arya urged him, alarmed by the despair that tainted his voice. “They say only the Maester is allowed to see her nowadays. They won’t let you in…”

“I don’t care!”, Jon protested, more harshly than he’d intended. Only then, he realised how terribly guilty he felt about the whole matter.

Arya’s eyes widened, but when she spoke again, her voice was as soft as a feather.

“Leave us, please", she pleaded with Sir Davos and Sandor. They did as she asked and went to sit to another table.

“Jon, what’s wrong? I’m sure she’s okay…”

“You don’t understand”, Jon cut her, visibly shaken. “You don’t know…”

Arya put her hand over his and squeezed it.

“What is it?”

Jon bit his lip hard, trying to calm himself before replying:

“It was all my fault, Arya. Daenerys was the first person I told after I spoke to Bran. She begged me not to tell Sansa, for she thought she would use it against her. I told her nonetheless and then, Sansa told Tyrion. I was a fool.” It was the second time he’d said it out loud, but the rage that the fact caused him hadn’t diminished at all. If so, it had only increased.

"Jon, you had no way of knowing she'd do that", Arya objected.

"The truth is I did. This wasn't the first time, Arya", Jon sighed with remorse. "When we fought to get Winterfell back, she did the same. She lied to me and she used me and our men as a bait so she and the Vale could end Ramsay in the last moment. This is just more of the same."

Arya paled then, and Jon thought that, maybe, her sister had just started to realise the game that had been played in the shadows all this time.

"Tyrion is Daenerys' hands. He won't..."

“Tyrion told Varys. And whatever his motives, he knew he was playing with fire", Jon cut her. "The Spider didn't want Daenerys to rule anymore, so he tried to convice Tyrion to betray her so I could be King instead. He didn't, though. He told Daenerys and she executed Varys for treason.”

“What happened to Tyrion?”

“He’s her prisoner now”, Jon replied. “He didn't know Cersei lied to him, so he thinks Daenerys has gone mad and only wants power.”

Arya pressed her lips together.

“Not so long ago, I thought that way about her too”, she admitted with a sigh.

“And you don’t anymore?”, Jon asked then, visibly surprised. He’d heard the reluctance in Arya’s voice while talking about Daenerys. And after what she’d told him about not trusting Daenerys at Winterfell, he didn’t expect her to change her mind.

“Honestly, Jon, I don’t know what to think anymore.” Her voice sounded exhausted, as if she’d been going around and around about the matter. “What I saw at The Red Keep, and then, during the fire… She’s not like I thought she was.”

“How so?”

Arya clasped her hands together, and Jon noticed she seemed awfully nervous.

“All those years in The East, I focused solely on learning all the horrible ways I could kill Cersei and all of those who betrayed us", she admitted, and, for the first time since they’d found each other again, Jon had the feeling she was talking to the Arya he’d known when he was a boy. “I thought that, once they were gone, I'd be able to rest and be the same person I was when I left. Cersei was the last one on my list, and when I was about to do it, I realised... I realised that without the anger, without the rage, without the pain... I didn't know who I was anymore."

This time, it was Jon who squeezed her hand. He’d almost given up his vows to The Night’s Watch when his father had been executed, and his sister was barely a kid then… It was only normal that she felt that way.

“Before knowing it was a trick, I was willing to kill an unborn child. I didn’t care at all. I needed her to pay. I didn't mind that it consumed me. Hadn't been for Daenerys, I…”, she confessed with a sob.

Jon kneeled before her and wiped away the tears that had started crossing her cheeks. It broke his heart to see her so broken.

“Arya, listen to me”, he urged her. “It’s okay. You’ve been through too much.”

“You have too”, she objected at once. “But you are no monster.”

“Arya, you’re not a monster. You will never be”, he replied, holding her face between his hands. “Terrible things have happened to you, and you’ve lived to tell them. That leaves a scar on everyone. I have mines too.”

Arya’s cocked an eyebrow.

“You look the same to me”, she sobbed.

“I’m not. I’m not the same person that left for Castle Black", he admitted while shaking his head. “I’m not even the same person that left Winterfell a few weeks ago, to be honest.”

Arya looked confused. 

“What do you mean? You’re Jon. You will always be Jon.”

Jon sighed and took a seat next to her.

“Yes, I am. But I can’t deny that… I’m also Aegon”, he said hoarsely. His own name tasted weird on his tongue. “I don’t know what that means yet, but I can’t pretend that knowing the truth doesn’t change anything.”

“You’re claiming the Throne?”, Arya’s voice was a mere whisper. 

“No”, he quickly replied. “I meant what I said. I don’t want to be King.”

“Then, what do you mean?” Jon swallowed hard.

“All my life, I thought myself undeserving of everything good that happened to me.” His words were firm, but his heart pounded uncontrollably in his chest. “Not anymore. Daenerys is one of those things, and I’m not going to let Sansa or anyone take her away from me because she wants to play Cersei’s same game.”

Arya gaped, understanding what he was implying.

“You are going to ask her to marry you.”

Jon flushed and looked away, feeling like a complete fool.

“I’m not sure if she’ll take me. I should have asked her long ago and I’ve made so many mistakes...”

Arya gave him a soft smile, as if she knew something he didn’t.

“What?”

His sister shook her head.

“Nothing.” Her voice sounded cheerful for the first time since the conversation had started. “It’s just… I’m proud of you, Jon.”

Jon smiled broadly and hugged her tightly once again.

“I’m proud of you too, Arya”, he said and then he gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. “Seven Hells, how I’ve missed you.”

Jon could feel Arya’s tears soaking up his shirt as she tightened her embrace around him.

“I’ve missed you too, brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think Daenerys' answer will be? ;)
> 
> As I said in previous chapters, Jon in this story has nothing to do with the one we got in S8. He's much more driven and decided. And as for his relationship with Arya after so many years of separation, I was a bit dissapointed by their reunion and the dynamics of their relationship in the series, so this was my way to compensate. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! I'll do my best to update soon 😊


	6. Lovers Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I've seen what love looks like  
> I've seen its beauty when it's alive  
> I was roaming in its paradise  
> It's gold, it's blue, it's in the skies
> 
> But I am a witness to love's death  
> There's no blood, there's no body, there's nothing left  
> Oh, my darling, don't you ever forget  
> I wasn't prepared for the end
> 
> This is what it looks like  
> When two people decide  
> That the love has died  
> Oh, the love has died  
> We're all victims of the way it hurts when the love is gone  
> Forever is not for everyone  
> We can't undo what's been said and done."
> 
> Due to my increasing lack of time, I've decided I'll update the story once a month. I may update sooner sometimes, but that's all I can promise for now.  
> So, to all of you who are still there and check this story's updates religiously, thank you so much for your support.  
> I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

**DAENERYS**

Daenerys' heart pounded heavily against her ribs while she walked across The Dragon Pit arena.

She hated that place and what it represented with every fiber of her being. The last time she'd been there, she'd sworn herself that, once she won the war, she'd burn it to the ground. After what had happened to the city, tough, she felt unable to fulfill her own promise. That, however, wasn't the only reason.

 _You're not like everyone else, and your family hasn't seen seen its end. You're still here._

Jon's words echoed in her head, making Daenerys shiver. Back then, he didn't know who he really was, but hadn't prevented him from predicting she wouldn't be the last Targaryen.

It was somehow poetic, she had to admit. For centuries, The Dragon Pit had represented the beginning of the end for the Targaryen dinasty. Now, it'd hopefuly witness the rebirth of it... And the end of her own family.

Daenerys felt sick whenever she thought about what the plan she and Grey Worm had drawn up required. Finding out about their child had put things into perspective for her, making the baby's safety and wellbeing her only concern. She would protect the life that grew inside her at any cost. That, inevitably, included Jon.

She was well aware of the terrible consequences her decision could have if he ever came to find out the truth. After all, that baby was as much hers as it was his. However, she couldn't ignore the horrible truth that danced in the shadows of her mind: she didn't trust him enough to tell him. Also, as twisted it may sound, a part of her blamed him for trusting Sansa and, inadvertedly, putting the child's at risk in the process. 

A familiar roar broke the sky and interrupted her thoughts. Daenerys held her breath with anticipation as Drogon landed on the arena before her. She felt the excitement their reunion caused him through their bond, and so when the dragon approached her, she had to make a huge effort not run towards him. She'd promised Maester Blane she'd limit her efforts to a mininum. It was the price she'd have to pay in order to go there alone.

“I know, I know,” she whispered as Drogon purred under her touch. “I’ve missed you too.”

The dragon blinked at her right before slightly brushing her barely swollen abdomen, cautiously hidden under layers of fabric, with his huge head. Daenerys’ heart melted at the realisation that he was acknowledging the child’s presence. Certainly, their conexion had always been strong, allowing them to know if the other one was close or what they felt at a certain moment. This, however, was something completely new.

“You’ll have to take care of him," she warned him with a broad smile. She’d only started to refer to the child as _‘him’_ lately. She couldn’t be sure, of course, but she got a hunch quite similar as the one she’d got while carrying Rhaego.

She was imagining how Drogon would act towards him once the child were actually born, when the dragon stood on the arena and started to growl threateningly to whatever was behind her.

Daenerys turned around sharply, only to find Jon standing a few meters from them.

She'd spent days preparing herself for the moment she saw him again but, as per usual, she had a hard time remembering how to breath in his presence. To improve the situation, she quickly noticed he had his hair picked up in a high bun, just as he'd done the day they've met at Dragonstone. Of course, that the time he had spent as Grey Worm's prisoner hadn't eroded his appeal at all. She tried to find some comfort on the fact that he seemed as anxious and agitated as she should look, his chest going up and down at a revealing frequency.

Then, he started running towards her, his intention crystal clear in his eyes, making Daenerys paralyzed. She tried to yell him to stop, to keep away from her. But she couldn't, her mouth didn't even open, so she closed her eyes, waiting for the imminent impact of his body against hers. It never happened, tough.

Instead, a defeaning roar and the trembling arena under her feet made her open her eyes at once. Drogon had interposed between them and was now showing Jon his fangs with the same ferocity he used to display in battle. It was the first time one of the dragons had acted so aggressively towards him, and Jon stumbled back, disconcerted.

Her eyes locked with his for a brief moment, and the mixture of pain, fear and shame she saw in those made Daenerys' heart break apart.

“ _Dany_ , I–,” he muttered with a broken voice, and she grimaced at the sound of her own name. He remained still her under Drogon’s menacing look. “I'm so sorry. About Rhaegal, about Missandei. I shouldn't-"

"We were ambushed. There was _nothing_ you could have done about it." 

Jon winced at the bitterness of her tone, but she looked away, unmoved. Since Grey Worm had told her about Jon's contrition, Daenerys had tried to numb herself against his apologies. A futile training, she realised now, as she started shaking uncontrollably under Jon’s burning gaze. Just as she had done when he'd apologized to her after Viseryon's death beyond The Wall. And although a part of her wanted nothing more but to forgive everything and for him to hold her and tell her that everything would be alright, Daenerys was unable to do it.

“No. I should have never agreed to your plan. We should have stayed in Winterfell until Rhaegal got better and-.”

“For what?," she cut him hoarshly, holding onto fear and resentment with the same desperation she'd hold onto a rock in the middle of a storm. “So The North could throw me and my armies away now that they didn't need us anymore? So your sister could have finished me?”

Jon remained silent, but Daenerys didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She knew if she did, she'd be lost.

"Don't be a fool. We weren't much safer at Winterfell than we were at Euron Greyjoy's mercy on our way to Dragonstone."

"You're right. I made a terrible mistake," he admitted after a few seconds, regret tangible in his voice. "I'm sorry for that too."

"Should I take any comfort from it?", she asked wrily, ignoring his remorse. "Being right won't change the fact that your sister conspired against me. Most importantly, it won't change the fact that you choose them over _us_." 

"Don't say that", Jon pleaded, and, for the first time, Daenerys' will faltered. "I didn't choose them. Aye, telling Sansa was a huge mistake on my part, but I wasn't thinking properly. I was confused about what it meant for me, for _us_."

Daenerys blinked repeatedly, as if she'd been slapped. The memory of his rejection was still a fresh and open wound in her memory.

"Confused?! You couldn't even bring yourself to look at me after what happened that night in your chambers, but you didn't think twice the consequences telling her could have on me." Daenerys reproached him, tired of hiding the pain his decisions had inflicted upon her.

"I don't know what else can I say. I thought she'd keep her promise." Jon protested, anger and frustation fluttering in his eyes to Daenerys' surprise.

"For once, you could tell me the truth," she demanded, dodging Drogon and reducing the distance that separated them. "Tell me why you chose her over me. Tell me why you risked _everything_ we had for her to know the truth." 

Jon opened his mouth to answer, and for a brief second, Daenerys thought he'd start yelling at her. Instead, he bit his lower lip and shook his head dismissively.

"You know the story." His voice was ripped and his eyes were bright. "I've always been a bastard. Not to Rob, Arya, Bran or Rickon. But Sansa... She certainly took some pleasure reminding me of it. I thought losing our family had changed that, that we'd put all of that behind, and that she'd come to- to love and respect me as a brother." Jon looked up to her, and as stupid it was, the sorrow she saw in his grey eyes made Daenerys hate her even more than she already did. "Of course, she didn't."

Daenerys pursed her lips.

"You told her because you wanted her to know you were equals," she guessed, granting him a pityful look.

Jon nodded, visibly embarrased.

"It was stupid and childish," he admitted looking directly into her eyes. "But most of all, it was selfish. I'll never forgive myself for endangering your safety."

Daenerys tried hard not to sympathise but, as it'd happened since they'd met, she couldn't help to notice many of her own insecurities and personal experiences in his. Unlike Jon, she'd never been a bastard, but she'd faced the perils of carrying the Targaryen name. She'd also suffered Viserys' psychological and physical abuses for years. She couldn't bring herself to burden him with the consequences telling his sister had had when she wasn't sure what she'd have done in his place. 

"You don't have to worry about that. I'm okay," she lied, unable to stand his glare any longer.

"Are you?" His worried tone caught her off guard. "I know it was Cersei who burned the city. I also heard that you almost died helping the people to get out."

Daenerys swallowed hard, feeling a familiar warm grow inside her chest.

"People tend to exaggerate-," she muttered, but words died in her throat. Suddenly, Jon removed the little space there was left between them and took her face in his hands. His touch burned more than the wildfire did and so, lost in that sweet fever, she let him carefully examine her wounds.

"Do not lie to me, _Dany_ " He brushed her cheek with his thumb, sending a wave of electricity thrugh her spine. "You don't have to pretend."

Her heart rate went off and, for the second time that day, she felt the urge to forget everything and everyone that wasn't Jon.

"Don't-," she pleaded, shutting her eyes and in an effort to resist her most primary impulses. "Don't call me that. Don't do this."

"Do what?," he whispered as he stroked the lobe of her ear with his beard. "This?"

His thumb came to brush her lower lip, and Daenerys froze under his touch, unable to escape the truth that consumed her flesh and soul any longer. Even after everything that had happened, after everything that he'd unleashed, she still wanted him. She still loved him. And she hated herself for it. 

"This?," he growled right before kissing her with such hunger and such need that she found herself moaning hopelessly against his mouth. He then lowered his left hand to her waist and pulled her to him until Daenerys was nothing but a skein of weak flesh in his arms. When he pulled away to take air, he mumbled at the corner of her mouth: "I love you, Dany. I was a fool thinking I could give you up. I belong to you. I will always belong to you."

Daenerys blinked repeatedly, still completely intoxicated by him.

"You are my Queen. You will always be my Queen." He promised her while taking her hands between his. "But that is not enough. Not anymore."

Then, to Daenerys complete shock, Jon kneeled before her and asked her:

"Marry me."

Daenerys' eyes widened, and the sweet fog that flooded her mind dissipated right away, as if all had been a dream and she was being dragged back to reality against her own will. She looked down to their entwined hands and then back to Jon pleading eyes. Not so long ago, she'd dreamed of that day. She'd dreamed of him pronouncing that same words and her agreeing right away. Sadly, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"No." Her voice was calm and serene, but Daenerys looked away as soon as she said the word, knowing perfectly well that she was breaking his heart in doing so. Hers too.

The silence that followed weighed her more than she could have imagined.

"I- I don't understand," She hard Jon's voice after a few moments, barely a whisper. "I read your letter. I thought-, I thought it didn't matter to you, that we're-"

Daenerys blinked away the tears and pulled apart abruptly. Obviously, her commander had forgotten to tell her about that detail.

"Related? It didn't. It doesn't." She turned her back on him, but she could also feel his gaze following her every movement.

"Then, _why_?"

She inhaled deeply before trying to put into words her own chaos:

"I meant what I wrote. I loved you. As much as I despise myself for it, I _still_ love you." Her voice faltered, but she forced herself to continue. "It's a wicked feeling, you know? Love. You never seem to get enough of it, and so you'd do anything to keep it running trough your veins."

Jon said nothing, and Daenerys was grateful for it, because she knew perfectly well her resolution was pending on a threat.

"I've sacrificed so much for you... More than you could ever imagine." Daenerys gathered all the strength that was left inside her and turned around to face him one last time. "Of course, I did it because I wanted to. You never forced me to. But I cannot help to think that, if you loved me, if you _really_ loved me, you'd have done the same for me. I understand your reasons, I genuinely do. But I cannot marry you. You don't love me like I need you to do, and I- I can't put myself in that position _ever_ again."

With her heart in her mouth, Daenerys witnessed how Jon's hurtful expression dissapeared and a mask of resignation installed on his face. After a few seconds of silence, he pursed his lips tightly and stood up slowly.

"I- I understand." He didn't dare to look at her directly, but he added: "But I want you to know I meant what I said before. I'll never forgive myself for putting you in danger. So, if there's anything I can do to make up for my mistakes, say it and it will be yours." 

Daenerys' expression sobered immediately.

"There is something."

Jon stared at her, waiting for her to ask her wish. 

"I need you to make a choice."

"About what?," he frowned, though Daenerys knew him all too well not to sense he already suspected what she was about to propose him. 

"I want you to decide if you want to be King-."

" _No._ " He snarled straight away, anger crossing his sight.

"You didn't even let me finish."

"There's no need." He crossed his arms over his body. "I _don't_ want it."

Daenerys pursed her lips, slightly amused by his determination. 

"Have you even considered that, as King, you could grant The North the independence they so desperately want?"

Jon's expression darkened.

"If they want it that badly, they should fight for it. What happened between us changes nothing. I made you an oath, and I intend to keep it." Daenerys opened her mouth to reply that she didn't think that would be enough to calm down the Northern lords, but he shook his head dismissively and went on with his reasoning: "I'd only had agreed to be King is if you were by my side, but you've made very clear that's not going to happen. Besides, what woud you do then?"

The question caught her off guard.

"Does it really matter?"

"It does to me."

Daenerys had to make an effort not to react to that. 

"I'd would go back to Mereen."

For the rictus that had installed on his face, it was obvious he didn't like the idea at all.

"What's the alternative?"

Daenerys sighed.

"You're not going to like it."

Jon squinted.

"Try me."

"It'd require for you to proclaim the truth about who you really are." Daenerys gave him a moment to process what her request implied. "To all effects, you'd stop being Jon Snow and become Aegon Targaryen."

She saw the fear and the uncertainty flashing his eyes, but when he spoke again, there wasn't even a tittle of doubt in his voice.

"And then?"

"You'd have to support my claim publicly before the nobles."

Jon moistened his lips.

"Should I have to stay in King's Landing indefinitely?," he asked then with a hoarse voice. 

Although his absence would very much facilitate her later plans, the question made Daenerys feel as if she'd been stabbed in her guts.

"Probably not, as I'd grant The North its independence and you'd be again King in The North."

Shock bathed Jon's face, but Daenerys continued nonetheless:

"There's one condition to it, though." 

Jon cocked an eyebrow.

"Which is?"

"As a punishment for her crimes, Sansa and her descendants will be removed from the line of succesion. They could never rule The North or be Lords and Ladys of Winterfell. If you died without an offspring, the crown would pass onto Arya and then, Bran. In that order. And if Sansa fancied to start a rebellion or the Northern nobles supported her claim in any way, it would be considered treason and punished with dead. No favourable treatments."

To Daenerys complete shock, it only took Jon a few seconds to agree to it.

"Seems fair to me."

Her brow furrowed, confused by the quick of his response.

"You don't have to choose now, Jon. I guess you'd like to talk about it with-."

Again, Jon shook his head dismissevly and slowly approached her. 

"I don't need to discuss it with anyone. I already know I'm making the right choice." He made a brief pause before taking her hands between his again. "I screwed up and I understand if you never forgive me for what I did. But I love you, Dany. And if spending the next twenty years proving it to you is the price I must pay for the certainty of knowing you're safe, Seven Hells be damned, I pay it gladly."

Then, before she could say anything else, he brushed the back of her hand with his lips and turned around to leave the place.

As Daenerys watched him go under the last beams of twilight, she felt on her knees and started crying. She had the feeling that she'd come to regret her choice sooner than later.

**TYRION**

Tyrion had been banging on the door and yelling for more wine for what seemed like hours, when it finally opened. Losing his balance, he fell to the ground and his face hit the cold stone inevitably.

"I thought you'd quit drinking."

Aghast, Tyrion raised his head to face Daenerys' Targaryen impassible look. She was accompanied by several Unsullied. Grey Worm, of course, was among them.

"I'm afraid that was before you started killing pregnant woman," Tyrion replied cynically as he tried to stand up.

Daenerys cocked an eyebrow, but she didn't say a word while a couple of Unsullied forced him to go back inside his room.

"You look well, your majesty. I suppose you're here to take me to meet your dragon, aren't you?"

The Dragon Queen seemed somewhat amused by his guess.

"I definitely should. You certainly knew what's the punishment for treason, Lord Tyrion."

Tyrion's jaw clenched at the accusation.

"I didn't betray you, your grace. I was honest with you. There's a huge difference."

She let out a bitter laugh.

"You were honest with me once when you felt at bay and not before. There's a huge difference."

Tyrion couldn't help but agree. That was exactly what he'd done. He was angry at Daenerys for risking their plans for Jon Snow and he was also afraid that, if she knew many people knew the truth about Jon, she'd attack King's Landing driven by paranoia. Just as she'd done. Cersei planting wildfire all around the city had been the icing on the cake.

"What happened to her?"

He didn't have to pronounce her name, as he knew Daenerys was perfectly aware who he was refering to.

"She's dead."

He swallowed hard. She already knew his sister had died, but he wanted to hear it from Daenerys.

"Please, tell me about the details. Did you throw her away from Maegor's Holdfast? Did you burn her alive? Did you give her to Drogon for supper?" 

Daenerys' nostrils dilated, and in that moment, Tyrion had the realisation that she hated him for thinking her capable of that monstrosities.

"Neither of them." To Tyrion's surprise, she sounded honest as she entwined her hands before her. "We quarreled and Arya Stark stabbed her right before she cut my throat."

Tyrion's eyes widened. That was a scenario he hadn't contemplated.

"Did she know that she-?" He couldn't bring himself to say the obvious.

Daenerys moistened her lips before repleying.

"You know? For days, I've been weighing the idea of telling you the truth or not. Would you even believe it if I did?"

Tyrion's gaze darkened.

"But again, if I didn't, I'd be as hypocrite as you. We'd be equals. And Gods know you're far from being a desirable moral compass." Her words stung him more than he'd ever like to admit, because not so long ago, she'd asked him to join her under that same pretext. "She wasn't pregnant. She never was. It was all a trick so you'd force me not to attack the city directly." 

Tyrion felt sick. He shook his head, incredulous. 

"You're lying."

Daenerys remained silent, and as seconds passed, the veracity of her words hit him even harder.

"You're lying!!!," he yelled, approaching her completely angered. She had to give the the Unsullied a sign so they wouldn't hit him right there. "It can't be true. It cannot be!!!"

He could see the pity in the Queen's eyes even through the fury and frustation that blinded him in that moment.

"I'm not."

Tyrion put his hands to his head and started shaking it in total denyal.

He wanted Daenerys to be wrong so badly it hurt. However, the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. It was a brilliant plan, and his sister had always been good at lying. Of course, Tyrion had been so foolish that he'd even save her that effort. She'd never even tell him she was pregnant. She'd shown him what she wanted him to see and let him guess the rest. The only thing she'd got to do was follow along his own ilusion. She'd tricked him like a child, and he had betrayed the woman he'd loved and admired for her.

"What now?" he asked with tears welling up in his eyes, trying hard to conceal the shame and guilt that consumed him in that moment, guessing this had been the final blow in Daenerys' scheme of revenge. 

However, Tyrion would come to remember that day as the one he'd made all the wrong assumptions.

"Now," Daenerys said coming to stand before him. "You help me make this kindgom rise from the ashes."


	7. The Rise Of The Dragon I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, there :)  
> I know it took me longer than to update, but well, COVID-19 hit my country a month ago and since then, life has been anything but normal.  
> That being said, I hope you're all safe and healthy. Please, stay at home and take all the necessary precautions because this virus is no joke.
> 
> As a compensation of some sort for my delay, this chapter is longer than usual.  
> It also has two parts, the second of which will be up in a couple of days :)

**JON**

At sunrise, a familiar knock on the door of his makeshift bedroom made Jon get up from his bed like a spring. He'd been awake for hours, so eager to leave the place that he opened the door with unusual momentum.

"That was fast", Arya commented, her eyes analyzing Jon's tired expression with scrutiny. "Did you get some sleep?" 

Jon shrugged and locked the door behind him. 

"The usual."

"So, none."

"It's not like I can control it", he sighed, exasperated, as he started to walk the stone hallway of the building Daenerys had facilitated for their stay as soon as the Northern armies had arrived from The Trident.

From what Jon knew, three more buildings had been enabled: one for Daenerys and her army, where she also held most of her meetings nowadays, the other two being the hospice and the refuge for those who had lost everything due to the fire.

"I know you can't", she admitted, following him closely. "I also know it's not safe for you to be at the works in such state." 

"I'm fin-"

Before Jon could turn the corner, Arya cornered him against the wall, giving him a reproachful look.

"You may have fooled Davos, but you _can't_ fool me. It's obvious that you are _not_ fine."

Jon took a deep breath. She was right, he probably shouldn't be helping on the reconstruction of the city as sleep-deprived as he was. However, he couldn't afford another second of solitude. As soon as he was alone, he started playing Daenerys' words over and over again in his head, drowning himself in pain and sorrow. That, when he wasn't having certain twisted allucinations probably due to pure exhaustion.

"I can't stay there, Arya", he admitted with a pleading tone. "I'll go mad if I do, I swear."

His sister's expression softened immediately.

"Okay", she finally gave in. "But if I see you falter just once-"

"Deal."

Arya nodded and retreated. As per usual, Sir Davos and The Hound were already waiting for them in the street. Gendry and the Northern Army were with them. They'd just arrived at the capital and Jon had ordered his troops to help in whatever was necessary, just as Daenerys and her armies had done in the past for them. Considering how hostile they'd acted towards them at Winterfell, he'd assumed most of them would object or even refuse but, to his own surprise, he'd found little to none opposition.

They all started walking in silence towards the place they'd been working on for the last week: the ruins of an old mansion whose owner and his family had presumably perished in the fire.

"Tomorrow is the big day", Sir Davos quietly remarked, catching up to him. "How are you feeling?"

Jon inhaled deeply. Not long after their conversation, a couple of Unsullied had delivered him a letter from Daenerys, explaining that she planned to summon all renowned Westeros' nobles for a special council. It also said that the North's separation from the Seven Kingdom's was to be revealed during the meeting, implying that Jon true identity should be made public accordingly.

The words she'd used in her request had seemed to Jon too cordial and insufferably polite. He had got used to Daenerys' forthright and incisive way of communicating with him and he was painfully aware that she was trying to put distance between them.

"Eager for it to end."

His friend and most loyal advisor gave him a pityful look.

"On the bright side, I've heard that Samwell Tarly has been summoned too."

Jon pursed his lips into a tight smile. At first, the idea of reuniting with Sam had warmed his heart.

Jon suspected Daenerys' reasons to invite him over were related to the fact that she and Sam had a tricky relationship due to what she'd done in the aftermath of The Battle of the Goldroad.

Lord Tarly dispised his son enough to condem him to a life at The Wall, so the old bastard's death had probably been a relief to Sam. Dickon's, on the other hand, had not. His friend had loved and admired his little brother.

However, although he was certain Daenerys had no bad intentions towards Sam, he couldn't be sure of his reaction when he found out Jon had given up, not The Iron Throne -that's if it still existed-, but his own freedom, for her.

"Yeah. It'll be nice meeting again."

Sir Davos opened his mouth to reply, but words died in his throat as a thunderous roar resonated over their heads and a familiar winged shadow stood momentarily between them and the first light beams of dawn. A chorus of exclamations and agazed expressions followed. 

"Seven hells", Jon heard Gendry swear behind them. He didn't need to look at him to know that, as everyone else, he was marvelled with the sight of Daenerys riding Drogon so closely above them. 

"By the look on your face, one could think that you've never seen a dragon before", Arya teased him with a cheeky tone that didn't go unnoticed to Jon and made him turn to face them. "You better get used to it. It happens almost everyday."

Jon and Sir Davos exchanged a brief look.

Arya and Gendry's talk resembled a lot to the one they'd had with Tyrion the first time they'd put a foot on Dragonstone.

Now, the Lannister remained locked in one of the cells of the same building Daenerys inhabited, his fate holding in the air.

"Where is she going?", Gendry asked then, unable take his eyes off from them.

Jon couldn't blame him, though. Tyrion had been right about one thing: one could never get used to see a dragon.

"To the ruins of The Red Keep", he replied as he resumed the march. "It's the part of the city most punished by wildfire."

"Why didn't the rebuilds start there, then?"

"The Unsullied are not letting anyone go near there", Sandor Clegane said hoarsely, his tone deep and serious. 

Gendry's brow furrowed.

"But, why?"

"It's where the explosions started", Arya admitted, her tone deep and serious. Jon was aware that that his sister was having a hard time coping with what they'd seen there. "There may still be traces of wildfire, so I guess Daenerys doesn't think it's safe for the people to go there yet."

It was obvious for his expression that he was even more confused by that detail.

"And it is for her?"

Sandor snorted.

"How do you think she survived the fire in the first place?", he asked him with a exasperated tone. "Haven't you heard the stories of how she got her three dragons?"

Gendry stared all of them carefully, probably thinking it was all a joke. They all remained silent, which only served to stoke his curiosity.

"But that would mean-", he continued his reasoning, but Jon stopped paying attention, not wanting to think too much into it.

Even if Daenerys was immune to fire _and_ wildfire, he was well aware that she wasn't immortal, which meant that it wasn't safe for her to be among the debris either.

_Of course, she would rather risk her own life instead of others._

He was outraged when he'd found out what she and Drogon were doing in the first place. As obvious as it was that they were the only ones that could perform such a task, selfishly, irrationally, Jon wished for Daenerys to stay in her room and do nothing but rest and recover.

_But, what if one of the walls collapsed on her and Drogon wasn't near to protect her? What if another explosion happened?_

Yet again, Daenerys had never been one who let others fight her battles. It was something he'd always admired about her and one of the things that had made him fall for her.

He couldn't help but think that his fears were a deserved punishment. After all, he insisted on going beyond The Wall even after she'd openly opposed him risking his life. 

"You okay?", the sound of Arya's voice next to him interrupted his thoughts.

" _Aye_ ", he assured her, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I just need to start working, that's all."

His sister didn't say a word, but Jon was sure she could imagine what troubled his mind. Being away from Daenerys, not knowing if she had survived the battle or not had almost cost him his mental sanity. The circumstances he was facing now were terribly similar.

Jon had seen her a few times since their last meeting, but always from afar. His body and soul ached whenever he glimpsed her silver hair in the skies or over the streets, sorrounded by the people she'd saved. He wanted nothing more but to run to her, as every fiber of his being ached her proximity and contact.

The hard truth, however, was that he wasn't allowed to. As much as it killed him, the best thing he could do now was honour her wishes and stay away from her.

"Remember what I told you. If I see you-"

Once again, Jon didn't let her finish and nodded in her direction as he started getting rid of the belt which held his sword and dagger. Arya didn't say anything else and, as the rest of them, turned to leave to the part of the works where her abilities were most needed.

They didn't stop until several hours later, when the sun was beginning to set on the horizon. On their way to the place they'd been staying, Gendry suggested they should all have a mug of ale once they'd all tydied themselves up from the dirt and sweat.

Although he'd have sworn his whole body ached, Jon refused to stay alone more time than necessary, so he opened his mouth to support Gendry's idea. However, Arya got ahead of him and said:

"Sure. Jon and I have to go to a place before that, but we'll join you later."

Jon raised an eyebrow to his sister, not sure of what to make of it, but she only gave him a naughty look that did nothing but increase Jon's curiosity. They all kept talking about what they'd been doing that day, rumours that they'd heard and the names of the nobles that had started arriving to the capital in the last few days.

"A man told me today that the Prince of Dorne and his sister arrived yersteday. Yara Greyjoy and the remaining Ironborns are already here too", Sir Davos informed them. 

"What is she like? Yara Greyjoy."

Gendry's question, although innocent, raised many eyebrows, except for Arya's. Jon noticed her tensing.

"Seven hells, boy, she's a fucking woman! How do you think she's like? Have you never seen one before either?", Sandor retorted shaking his head with a mixture of fun and disbelief.

Gendry's face turned bright red almost immediately and The Hound burst out laughing.

"When this is all over, we'll get you a good Lady. I promise.", Sir Davos teased him while patting him on the back as he directed Gendry inside the building.

"That's not what I meant-", he protested, but no one seemed to listen, which made Jon chuckle. His mood died, however, when he saw the grim expression on Arya's face.

"Are you okay?", he asked her softly. 

Her expression changed abruptly as she smiled nonchalantly and rushed inside the building to avoid his worried looks.

"At the harbor within half an hour!", she shouted as she dissapeared down the hall.

As promised, half an hour later, Jon was already at the harbor. Arya, on the other hand, was late.

It didn't bother him that much, tough. It was the first time he visited the place there since the day they'd arrived at the city as Grey Worm's prisoners, but even then, he had appreciated the views. Now, with the last lights of the day bathing the water, the warm breeze brushing his face and the sound of the waves clashing against the stone, the place was breathtaking.

With his sight lost at the horizon, Jon recalled a not inconsiderable amount of ships resting at the bay. Even from where he was standing, he could distinguish the Greyjoy sigil on some of them, as well as many others with a Sun pierced by a spear that he supposed beloged to the new Prince of Dorne that Sir Davos had just told them about.

The sound of hooves approaching brought him out of his reverie. Jon turned around and found Arya approaching him while she held the reins of two horses.

"Do you fancy a ride?", she asked as she offered him the reins of the black one.

Jon gave her a curious look.

"Where are we going?", he asked as he got on the horse.

Arya shrugged and replied:

"Wherever you want to."

She made a brief pause before adding:

"I know it's not comparable to riding Rhaegal", her voice was soft and full of sorrow. It was the fact that she knew the name of the dragon he used to ride, however, what made him jolt. "But I figured out that, since this is your last night as Jon Snow, you should spend it doing something that he'd always loved."

Jon felt a lump in his throat.

After what he'd witnessed at Winterfell, he'd come to accept that his sister, the one he'd always had such an incredible connection with, was gone. That all those years apart and all the suffering she'd endured had changed her forever.

Yet, when they've met after the fire and especially after those last weeks they'd spent working together on the rebuilding of the city and being around each other, they seemed to have restored part of that connection.

"Thank you", he said whole-heartedly, to which Arya shook her head, downplaying it. Just as she used to do when he thanked her for sneaking out to have dinner with him at his table when someone important visited Winterfell and Jon wasn't allowed to have dinner with the rest of them.

"Well, where to?"

Jon didn't reply. Instead, he spurred his horse, leaving Arya behind as they galloped by the docks.

His advantage didn't last long, though. Arya was much lighter than him and, unlike him, seemed to be perfectly synchronized with her mount, which made her catch up with them very easily.

As if she had sensed his frustation, Arya turned around briefly and smirked as she and her mount overtook them.

Jon squinted, knowing that she was challenging him. In the end, though, he decided to let his ego aside and simply enjoy the ride instead. And so, when they finished touring the port, he followed her through the city.

It was obvious, because of the determined way and the speed in which she turned every corner, that she knew the place much more than she let on. Thus, after a while, Jon stopped trying to decipher where they were going and just kept up with her pace, enjoying the views and the feeling of fresh air on his face.

It wasn't until they got at the foot of Rhaeny's Hill that Arya decided it was time to stop and rest. Jon didn't know what had made her choose that specific spot, but he was grateful she didn't suggest they kept going up until The Dragon Pit.

He imitated her and dismounted, sitting next to her on the edge of the road. When he directed his eyes towards the horizon, he finally understood why she'd chosen to stop right there.

Although the views were probably not as spectacular as from above, you could see the sun setting on the waves of the ocean as the last lights of day bathed the city. They stood like that, in silence, until Arya finally asked:

"Are you ready?"

Jon didn't need to ask to know what she was referring to.

"No", he admitted, without taking his eyes off the city. "But I guess it will never be a good time for people to know the truth about me."

Arya turned to give him a serious look.

"You may be a Targaryen, but you were raised as a Stark. I know that, and the Northeners do too", her voice sounded almost hurt. "Besides, you're giving them what they've wanted for centuries." 

Jon snorted.

"The North's indepence was Dany's idea, not mine", he admitted, regretting immediately referring to her by the short name he knew she hated but he couldn't help but love. Arya's eyes widened with surprise, but the shock didn't affect her voice in the least.

"I suppose she wants nothing to do with it after how we treated her", she reasoned with a cynical smile. "Although I have to admit it's a clever move. Especially, considering the conditions she has imposed on Sansa."

Jon clenched his jaw immediately at the mention of their sister.

"Have you written to her yet?", Arya asked then, her voice much more softer as she sensed the tension that had built in the air.

"No."

"I know you don't want to talk about it but, you'll have to tell her sooner or later-."

"What she did was inexcusable", Jon snarled, glaring at her.

"I think what she did was wrong too", Arya protested. "But she always complained about the fact that, once you met Daenerys, you started leaving her out of every political decision."

This time, it was Jon who cocked an eyebrow.

"I was the King. _I_ , Arya, not her. Those decisions were mine to make", his tone icy and cold. "It's not as if she had any idea on how to defend ourselves against The Night King and his army. She even tried to prevent me from asking Daenerys for help. Of course, she kept quiet as soon as I informed her she'd be the one in charge until my return. Did she tell you that too?"

She gave him a disapproving look.

"She was trying to protect you. What The Mad King did to our grandfather and uncle-", Arya made a pause, realizing the new implications of what she was about to say.

"We couldn't have defeated The Night King without Daenerys, Arya. You said it yourself", Jon said then, trying to redirect the conversation. "Had I listened to her, we'd all be wights by now. She thinks she's smarter than she really is. Although she's good at playing games, I'll give you that." Jon inhaled deeply before adding: "What she did was treason. Other rulers have executed nobles for much less."

To that, Arya remained silent. It wasn't the first time they'd talked about Sansa and the conversation always ended in an impass. Arya wanted them to honour their father wishes and stay together, united as a family, but Jon didn't think that was possible at all.

"Do you honestly think she'll be a good Queen?", Arya asked after a few moments. Her tone lacking any kind of biting, just curiosity and plain worry.

Jon couldn't help but smile.

"Daenerys can be impulsive and reckless, and I know for a fact that she _is_ ruthless when it comes to betrayal."

Jon bit his lip briefly and then turned to look at Arya directly. 

"But she's also generous and kind, and she cares more for the common people and their needs than any other noble I've met."

"That is not what I asked", Arya retorted with a serious look. 

"I cannot predict the future", Jon admitted and started getting up. "But, yes, I think she will be a good one." 

Arya seemed to acquiesce in his answer and so they didn't say another word on their way back to the tavern to meet the rest of their motley group.

Once there, Jon solely focused on enjoying his last hours as only Jon Snow, being acutely aware that once his secret was out, nothing would ever be the same.

However, as much as the prospect of telling the nobles about it unsettled him, he was actually relieved that no one would ever have the right to call him a bastard again. But most of all, he was happy to know that, Targaryen or not, he had been a wanted child. Desired enough for his father to annul his previous marriage in order to protect him and his mother.

Over the last weeks, Jon couldn't help but wonder... How different things would have been for him and Daenerys, had his father won at The Trident.

When Jon opened his eyes the next morning, his head felt as if it was about to explode.

Blurred memories of the night flood his mind at once, and as he pressed his fingers against his temples trying to ease the throbbing tension, he swore to himself he'd never play truth or challenge ever again. Least with Arya.

He slowly turned around on the cot and looked out the window. The first lights of day came through it, and since The Council was to be held at noon, Jon thought he could spend a little more time in bed that morning.

A foolish wish, he realized, for as soon as he put his cheek on the pillow, someone started pounding on the door. The noises were so loud that, for a moment, Jon believed the thing would fall apart.

Startled, he got up as best as he could and walked up to it.

"Wow", Arya gasped as soon as he opened the door. "You look terrible."

Jon grimaced and moved aside so she could enter the room. She didn't come alone, though.

"I'm afraid your sister is right, milord", Sir Davos said as he followed her closely, not before giving Jon a sympathetic look.

"I wonder whose fault is that", Jon replied cynically, glaring at them. "Why are you even here in the first place?" 

Arya and Sir Davos exchanged glances.

"Well, we know that with everything that's been going on...", Arya started, her tone mischiviously innocent. 

"The war against the Bolton, then the dead...", Sir Davos continued, nodding in agreement. 

"You've neglected yourself, that's it", Arya claimed plainly in the end. "I know you think you look great, Jon, but you can't go to that meeting looking like you just came out of battle."

"I agree", Sir Davos said with a smile.

Jon kept quiet for a minute. He was tempted to tell Arya she wasn't allowed to say anything about his looks, taking into account that she barely managed to take care of her own. 

But then, he looked at Sir Davos. He seemed somewhat nervous, which made Jon wonder if they weren't right after all.

"Okay", he sighed, defeated. "What is that you suggest?"

"A haircut", Arya proposed at once, taking a pair of scissors out of her pocket and making Jon pale out of a sudden. "And most definitely a shave."

"New clothes, too", Sir Davos said then, heading to the door. "I'll go fetch them."

"Bring water too!", Arya yelled as she gestured for Jon to sit down by the window.

Her brother pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You've been planning this for a long time, haven't you?", he chuckled, though he already knew the answer.

"We can't let the nobles think that The King in The North is a barbarian, can we?", she replied with a smile at the same time she cut the first pair of black curls. 

Once Jon was perfectly shaved and dressed, his hair now right over his shouders with a knot in the back collecting the top part, the three of them met with Gendry.

As they rode through the streets of King's Landing, Jon noticed a few women whispering and laughing as they passed.

He'd never been one to care about that kind of attention, but it made him realize that maybe Arya and Sir Davos weren't wrong after all.

A few hours before, a couple of Unsullied had delivered them a message from Daenerys. It said that the meeting would take place in front of the walls of what once had been The Red Keep.

The chosen location had surprised them all, but they assumed that she'd have a good reason for it.

However, the further they went into the part of the city that bordered the fortress, Jon started having doubts.

Like the rest of them, he'd heard rumours and listened to what Arya and The Hound had told about the night of the fire, but none of them made justice to the actual state of it: no building had been left standing, and what remained of them was indistinguishable among the piles of debris, all of it covered by a thin layer of green.

The worst part, no doubt, were the fully charred human body parts that now belonged to the stacks. 

Nonetheless, Daenerys had managed to set apart some of it to create an ash sand of some sort where blood-red awnings, very similar to those that Cersei had arranged during their meeting at The Dragon Pit, protected a table from the Sun. The material it was made of Jon could not identify, but he noticed at least a dozen seats had been arranged around it.

He separated himself from the others in order to inspect the place when a woman he'd never seen before stood in his way. Her hair, of a light brown, was cut right above her shoulder and she was wearing an armour instead of a dress.

"Jon Snow, I presume", the timbre of her voice, oddly familiar to Theon's, betrayed her.

The giant squid that adorned her chest only confirmed Jon's suspicions. 

"You must be Yara Greyjoy", he said with a brief nod. "I was happy to learn that your brother had managed to rescue you. My condolences, my lady. He was a good man."

The woman's rough features contracted in a grimace of some sort.

"We both know he wasn't. Not for the most part of his life, at least", she said with a sad smile. "But he died protecting what he loved the most."

Jon nodded in agreement, but turned around when he heard footsteps approaching.

A man and a woman, dressed in flowing fabrics and vibrant colours, entered the arena and took a seat on the table.

"The new Prince of Dorne", Yara said behind him.

"How do you know?", Jon asked out of curiosity.

"Dornish people are unmistakable", Yara grinned. "Though I have to admit I have no idea who the woman is."

They stood there for a while, watching as the rest of the nobles who had been invited entered the place.

Like him, Yarad didn't seem to recognize any of them. But then, Samwell appeared among them. 

"Sam!", he called so his friend could join them.

A wide smile spread all over Sam's face, who didn't hesitate before hugging Jon tightly, completely ignoring Yara's presence and protocol in the process.

"I'm glad to see you too", Jon joked as he pulled away. "Samwell Tarly, this is Yara Greyjoy."

Sam's eyes gleamed with surprise as the Lady of The Iron Islands offered him her hand.

"It's- It's a pleasure meeting you, my Lady", he babbled, shaking her her hand instead of kissing it.

Jon repressed a laugh, but he noticed Yara seemed pleased with the change.

"Tarly, you said?", she asked, her brow furrowed. "I thought Lord Tarly and his only son had been executed after refusing to join our Queen."

A tense silence installed among them, only broken by Yara's voice when she asked:

"Did I say something wrong?"

Jon opened his mouth to reply, but Sam got ahead of him.

"We should take a seat, don't you think?"

"Aye", Jon agreed as he gestured for Gendry, who had been talking with Arya and Sir Davos until that moment, to join them. 

As they approached the table around which the rest of the nobles had gathered, Jon noticed that two of the chairs, the ones that presided both ends, were different from the others.

One of them had the unmistakable Targaryen sigil engraved on the back and two dragons carved on top.

The other, to his utter surprise, had engraved a sigil he'd never seen before.

One in which a wolf and a dragon stood face to face, showing their jaws. On the top, the heads of two white wolves terribly similar to the one _Longclaw_ had on its grip had been carved.

"Isn't it-?", Sam started to ask next to him, but words died in his mouth as the sound of troops approaching interrupted them. 

Jon felt his heart racing under the cage of his ribs as The Unsullied paraded around the place, creating a hallway in the process.

Then, as one of them gave the order, they stood rigid. Only then, Jon got a glimpse of Daenerys.

She was wearing a grey dress with a corset made of black leather. It made her eyes stand out and contrasted with her light skin. Her hair was tied up in a sigle braid, made up of at least a dozen other smaller ones.

Unlike when they'd met Cersei, this time Drogon was nowhere to be seen. That, however, didn't make her less imposing.

Daenerys was the blood of the dragon, and although her little frame could be deceitful, Jon himself knew that one look of her was enough to make anyone who dared to challenge her tremble.

Jon recognized Grey Worm's figure behind her, walking next to the one person he didn't expect to see that day.

 _Tyrion Lannister_.

He wasn't in chains anymore and he looked much better than the last time they'd seen each other.

Jon's eyes went to Daenerys, as if asking for an explanation but, of course, she avoided making eye contact.

Instead, she kept her gaze haughty as she skirted the table under the curious and fascinated eyes of the nobles.

Then, she took a seat on her designated chair, gesturing for them to imitate her. Grey Worm, the Maester and Tyrion stood behind her ceremoniously.

The nobles did as she asked, Jon being the last to do it on the chair that had the two wolves carved.

"Excuse me, Lord Snow, but seems to me that _that_ chair is reserved for someone else", a middle-aged man with a sullen face said, looking directly at him.

At that, Jon cocked an eyebrow, ignoring the man and looking directly to Daenerys. 

"That chair was expressly made for him", she replied, holding his gaze for a second, then turning to Lord Edmure. The man looked at them alternately, confused and disgruntled, but didn't dare to say another word. "Now, if you're done making assumptions, Lord Edmure, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep quiet."

Yara barely repressed a snort, earning a warm but disapproving look from Daenerys. 

"Normally I'd thank you all for travelling so far to meet with me", she said as she stood up in her chair. "But I think it'll be better if I just skip formalisms and go straight to the point."

From the corner of the eye, Jon saw how the lanky young boy sit next to Yara looked completely dazzled by Daenerys' attitude.

"Most of you have grown up listening to the stories of my family. Aegon's Conquest at best, my own father's, The Mad King, in the worst case", she added without the slightest trace of shame. "How is the saying? _Everytime a Targaryen is born, the Gods flip a coin._ "

Daenerys' eyes roamed the table, analyizing the reactions of the nobles to her words.

"Right you, you're probably wondering how my coin has landed. If I'm here to bring you a decade of peace and prosperity, or another of chaos and death", her tone was playful, even daring, but in the outside, she remained impassive. "Well, let me be clear from the very beginning: that's completely up to you."

Jon's eyes widened at the declaration, taking him by surprise.  
  
"How so?", the Prince of Dorne asked then, though he didn't seem scared in the very least.

"The Game my ancestors created will be no more", she stated. "We all agree that The Seven Kingdoms need peace, but they also need some changes."

"Such as?", an old man inquired, his tone full of reservation.

"For starters, the common people will have their say in the decisions we make", Daenerys replied dryly. “And to make sure that happens, a person chosen by them from every region of The Seven Kingdoms will sit at this table with us."

Before she could say anything else, offended murmurs and outraged exclamations filled the place.

"If you're not up to the task, you're free to exchange your lands and titles with someone who is, of course", she added with a grinn, knowing perfectly well that she was tempting luck.

"And if we refuse?", the lanky boy from before asked, visibly offended.

A few sighs of surprise were heard, but Daenerys didn’t even flinch.

Only after a few seconds had passed, she smiled softly and stood up.

Then, she started walking towards the boy. Her pace was slowly. Measured. Like that of a predator about to pounce on its prey. The tone of her voice as she spoke, just as honeyed:

“No one likes to give up power."

The young man tried to remain impassive to her words and presence, but as Daenerys got closer, he began to shiver. It was hard for Jon to discern if he did out of fear… Or pure and stupid excitement.

“But make no mistake, Lord Arryn", she whispered to his ear as she put her hands on his shoulders. "If it’s fire and blood what you seek, then you, and _only you_ , shall have it.” 

Lord Arryn’s tremors died at once, just as all the murmurs.

Jon didn’t need to look around to know what the Nobles were thinking.

He and Daenerys had never really got the chance to talk about her politics once Cersei and The Night King had been defeated. Jon doubted that even if they had, this was something he could have ever anticipated. 

Warfare was usually the result of power struggles, economic problems or religious issues. Often, a mixture of the three.

The fact that Daenerys was willing to start another to defend the rights of those who didn’t have them was an unprecedent situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things to bear in mind about this chapter:  
> 1\. It's been two weeks since Dany turned down Jon's proposition. Many things have happened in the meantime. Some of them will be explained in future chapters.  
> 2\. About Dany's pregnancy she's now around 8 weeks pregnant, more o less, which makes the baby, not a #BoatBaby but a #WaterfallBaby ;)  
> Once again, thank you everyone for your continuous support.  
> It makes me tremendously happy that you're enjoying the story :)


	8. The Rise Of The Dragon II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if it isn't the very first time I update on schedule lol 
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos. Your support has really encouraged me to write those days :)
> 
> I was replying the last comments and just read some of you asking if this is a Jonerys fic, and I wanted to publicly clarify that it is. I apologize if their quarrell has seemed neverending to you, but I promise -spoiler alert!- it's nearly over. 
> 
> On the other hand, I'm aware Daenerys can look like a heartless person at some points, like, for example, when she decided to hide Jon her pregnancy.  
> Let's face it, she is no genocide, but she is not a saint either.  
> And personally, that's one of the things that I love most about the character.  
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter but, most of all, that you and your dear ones are all safe and sound ♥

**JON**

A deathly silence descended upon the table as the nobles exchanged nervous glances. Daenerys was about to bring down the same system that had fed and breed them from the crib, except maybe for Gendry and him. Yet, not one of them dared to defy her.

It was exactly what she had intended to get from the very beginning of their meeting, Jon realized.

 _I saw the way they looked at you_ , she had told him that night. _I know that look. So many people have looked at me that way, but never here. Never on this side of the sea._

So she'd rule by fear.

_A dragon is not a slave._

And Daenerys was most definitely the blood of the dragon.

It was only natural that she refused to chain herself to the unstable and veering support of the nobles.

Jon had lived enough to know that the line between the strong ruler she was trying to present herself as, and a tyrant, was extremely fine. Yet, he had no concerns in that regard.

He was well aware that what lied beneath Daenerys' scales was not only fire, but a good heart. 

"If I may, your grace", someone said then.

Jon blinked repeatedly, noticing it was none other than Sam. His friend's face of a bright red as all eyes turned to him at once.

Although visibly surprised, Daenerys took off her hands from Robyn Arryn and nodded in Sam's direction.

"I think it's a brilliant idea", he argued. His tone was serious, but a look was enough for Jon to know that he was actually terribly excited about it. "After all, the decisions we'd make will not only affect us, but them too. It's only natural they have a say in all of this."

"I'm glad to hear that, Lord Tarly. Thank you for your support", Daenerys replied, her smile sincere and grateful. She bordered the table back to her chair and added: "Well, now that that point is clear, let's move on to the next." 

She took a sit and clasped her hands on her lap as she fixated her violet gaze on Jon in a silent request.

For a brief second, his eyes wandered to Arya, who didn't hesitate before giving him a comforting smile.

And so Jon inhaled deeply and stood up, earning everyone's attention immediately. 

"Milords. Most of you know me as Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell and son of Lord Eddard Stark", he said, holding on to Daenerys' burning gaze as if it was the only thing that kept him standing. "That's who I've always thought I was and, what I've believed all my life. Until a certain information came to my knowledge."

_Kill the boy, Jon Snow._

_Kill the boy and let the man be born._

"I'm not Lord Eddard's son, but his sister's. Lyanna Stark." Jon made a brief pause, feeling his heart about to get out of his rib cage. He knew he had to be as concise as possible, for there were certain details of the story that were impossible to explain. "After he annuled his marriage to his first wife, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and her ran away and married in secret. She died giving birth to me, right after making Lord Eddard swear that he'd protect me from Robert Baratheon's wrath against Targaryen."

It only took a few seconds for chaos to break out after that.

If Jon had ever harboured doubts over his uncle's reasons to keep his heritage a secret, they were all gone now. After all, it was proof that Robert's Rebellion was built in a lie.

"That cannot be true."

"Impossible!"

"How could we not know that?!"

He didn't allow himself to pay any attention to their scandalized voices and reproaches. He didn't even dare to look at Gendry, who the revelation had turned into the son of the man who killed Jon's father, rather than the one who he used to be friends with.

Instead, Jon solely focused on examining every millimeter of Daenerys' impregnable expression. Until a certain voice caught their attention:

"This is outrageous!", the woman who accompanied the Prince of Dorne screamed as she stood up and held on to the edge of the table with both hands. "Lyanna Stark might have been a slut and not a victim after all, but there's no way you can prove that Rhaegar dishonoured my aunt by annuling their marriage!"

Jon hadn't met her. His mother. He didn't even remember her face, not even her touch. But he knew that she had loved him and tried to protect him until her very last breath, and that fact was enough for him to respect and love her memory back.

Hearing the woman insulting her like that aroused a visceral rage in him, but for when he turned to her in order to reply, Daenerys had anticipated.

" _Watch your tongue_ , Princess Arianne", she hissed. Her face totally composed except for her eyes, under which Jon recognized a familiar twitch. "As painful as the truth may be for you to hear, let me remind you that my brother was the one who was married, not Lady Stark."

"Had she not seduced him-", the Princess bit back, but Daenerys didn't let her finish.

"Did she?", she asked, rising an eyebrow and feigning surprise. "And how would you know that? You weren't there."

Jon was perplexed. He didn't expect Daenerys to defend him at all, much less, his deceased mother and probably the very reason her family had been almost extinguished.

"With all due respect, your majesty, neither were you."

Holding his breath, Jon noticed how the Prince pulled the Princess arm, trying to make her to sit back as he, like everyone present, was probably guessing what was coming. It was futile. The Princess shed from his grip and stood up to Daenerys. 

"That's true, I wasn't", Daenerys conceded with an acquiescent but wicked smile. "But do you know who did? High Septon Maynard."

The Princess's face turned white as realization hit her to the core.

"He officiated Rhaegar and Lyanna's wedding and registered it on his memoirs", Tyrion Lannister intervined, leaving everyone perplexed as he unrolled a piece of parchment and passed it to them. "A raven arrived from The Citadel a few nights ago. They confirmed what Lord Snow and The Queen have just told you. It is all true."

Another devastating silence was made while the nobles read the note that confirmed it. Jon was aware that it was just the peace that preceded the storm. 

"Honestly, I'm surprised that you have chosen to believe this, your grace", the Princess retorted as she titled her head and passed the piece of parchment to her brother. "Because if he _is_ who he says he is, he has a claim to The Iron Throne. In fact, considering what we, you and I both know about this world, seems to me that Lord Snow has a far better claim than you have."

From the corner of the eye, Jon watched with horror as Lord Edmure, Lord Arryn and two other nobles nodded in agreement.

And then, Jon saw it in Daenerys' eyes. Not anger, nor fury. Just pure and wild terror.

She'd warned unceasingly about this moment, but that didn't make it hurt any less: seeing her completely defeated just like that damn night in his bedroom.

Driven away by the anger and an animal instinct to protect her, Jon hit the table with both fists.

It made Daenerys' eyes widened and the rest of the nobles startled.

"Enough!", he roared. His voice threatening and his jaw clenched as he glared them. "The truth is, that if it weren't for Daenerys' sacrifices and my sister Arya's skills, we'd all be dead by now. At best, we'd still be living under Cersei Lannister's reign of terror. And yet, here you are, suggesting that I should be the one to sit on a throne that she's earned, not with her birthright, but with sweat and blood. You're all a bunch of _ungrateful_ brats. That's what you are."

Jon leaned across the table as his gaze pierced the Princess of Dorne.

"Daenerys is The Queen. _Now and always_. Any offense towards her I will consider it a personal attack on me", he said in a throaty voice. "But above all, she's my family. And when it comes to family, I shall show no mercy. Have I made myself clear, _Princess_?"

Squinting and still visibly upset, the young woman took a seat and replied:

" _Perfectly._ "

"Good", he accepted, his smile proud and feral. Then, he adressed the rest of the nobles and added: "One more thing. From now on, you shall refer to me as Aegon Targaryen, for that is my real name."

Only then, Jon dared to look up to Daenerys. Her eyes were bright, but her expression was completely indecipherable.

He was certain it'd take much more than this for her to trust him again, but he desperately hoped that, for once, she believed him when he said that he'd do anything to protect her. 

"So, now that our loyalties have been made clear and everyone has been informed of the latest events", Tyrion adressed the nobles as he stepped forward. "Let's talk about the reason why you are all here."

He made a brief pause to look at Daenerys, who nodded.

"To see who will rule what." Tyrion spread a map of Westeros on the table and pointed Dorne on it. "As his family before him, Prince Trystane Martell will rule Dorne. Lady Yara Greyjoy will rule The Iron Islands while Lord Robyn Arryn will do the same with The Vale. As a reward for his bravery and brilliant intellect, Lord Samwell Tarly and his family will replace the Tyrells as Lords of The Reach. After their mother's passing, his sister Talla will inherit the title of Lady of Horn Hill."

Jon's surprise was capital, but definitely not a tenth of his friend's. Sam looked at him and Daenerys alternately like he'd seen a ghost.

Jon gave him a comforting smile, knowing all too well how much this would mean to him. 

"Than-thank you, your grace", he babbled, bowing his head. Daenerys nodded in respect. 

"As his father before him, Lord Edmure Tully, will run The Riverlands", Tyrion went on. "In regards to The North, it will be ruled by Aegon Targaryen."

"Quite a drastic change for a Warden of the North", Yara Greyjoy said then, smiling to Jon in a clear attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

However, it only made Jon tense. Daenerys' reply, though, was immediate.

"He won't be Warden of the North, Lady Yara."

"I-I don't understand, your majesty", Lady Greyjoy said, her eyes squinting.

"The North will remain an idependent kingdom, as it was before The Last War. So, from now on, Jo-Aegon will hold the title of King in the North."

Yara's brow furrowed and Jon noticed Sam and Gendry turned around to look at him, completely stunned.

"Forgive me, my Quen, but I understood that The King in the North had pledged himself to you."

For the first time since the Council had started, his gaze and Tyrion's met.

The look that the dwarf gave him seemed to scream " _I told you so_ ".

"That's true", Daenerys agreed with Yara. "It's also true that he did under the identity of Jon Snow, so he is no longer subject to that oath. In any case are considering it a favor deal, let me remind you that The North paid a high price by defending the rest of the Kingdoms from the dead. After that, while most of you remained neutral, the Northeners marched South with me to fight Cersei's army. So, as I said, Aegon Targaryen will rule in The North, and I, will rule the remaining Six Kingdoms."

It was obvious for everyone that Yara didn't like the new circumstances but, unless the Dornish Princess, clearly knew better than to challenge Daenerys publicly.

Tyrion cleared his throat.

"On a higher note", he said as he stepped forward, right next to Daenerys. "Since the threat beyond The Wall does no longer exist, The Night's Watch is dissolved. The surviving men who used to serve there will help in the reconstruction of the city." 

"And the wildlings?", Lord Edmure asked, visibly concerned.

Jon repressed a laugh.

"Most of them came back to the lands beyond The Wall after The Battle of Winterfell." 

"But what if they come back?"

"Chances are, they won't. But I assure you, Lord Edmure, that they are not our enemies."

"Even if they were", Lord Arryn intervened then. "The North would be the first place they'd attack."

Jon rolled his eyes, earning a disaproving look from Daenerys in the process, so he heastened to add in the most reassuring tone he was capable of:

"Of course, milords. If that day comes, rest assured that The North will contain the threat."

Lord Edmure and Lord Arryn seemed content with the promise.

"One last thing", Tyrion said . "Our Queen's coronation will be held in a month. Everything must be in order by then so, for now on, we'll meet twice a week from now on to discuss the kingdoms' affairs."

For the first time since the meeting had started, all of them seemed to agree.

"Well, that will be all for today", Daenerys stated as she rose up in her chair.

Jon was the first to stand up as a sign of respect, and the rest of the nobles followed him.

As Daenerys walked away, closely followed by Grey Worm and her Maester, Jon noticed Tyrion approaching. However, he was suddenly intercepted by the Dornish Princess.

"Lord Tyrion", she greeted him as she came to stand between them, with her back to Jon. "I'd heard rumours, but I must admit that seeing you here today has been an utter surprise."

"Believe me, Princess, no one is more surprised than I am", he resplied, giving Jon a meaningful look. 

Princess Arianne didn't seem to notice and went on:

"I found that hard to believe. The Queen must have been delighted to take you as her advisor, especially when it was you who put an end to your Lord father's life."

The shadow of guilt covered Tyrion's features for a second.

"Family relationships are _tricky_. You should know that by now, Princess", he retorted with a slow voice, although his dilated nostrils gave away his authentic mood.

"My father was a fool to think Ellaria would stand idly by after what that monster did to my uncle Oberyn", she said bluntly, taking both Jon an Tyrion by surprise. Yet, she chuckled. "Don't look at me like that, Lord Tyrion. Parents are allowed to have favourites, and so are their children."

"Is that what happened with your brother?", Tyrion questioned as he turned to look at the Prince, who Jon noticed was now talking to Gendry and Lord Arryn. "I thought that, when it came to ruling, Dornish didn’t distinguish between women and men.”

“We don’t”, she admitted. “But my father didn't think it'd convenient for me to be instructed in the art of fighting, which turns out is quite a pivotal point when you decide to take back what is yours. Besides, we do whatever is necessary to ensure our way of life.”

Tyrion cocked an eyebrow to that last part.

“Meaning?”

“I had you for a smart man, Lord Tyrion”, Arianne grinned, then titled her head towards the now distant figure of Daenerys. 

Jon's brow furrowed, but a brief glance from Tyrion was enough to make him understand.

And for his blood to boil in response. 

“I'm not sure our Queen would be interested in that kind of arrangements just yet”, Tyrion cleared his throat, obviously trying to sound conciliatory.

“I thought that might be the case”, Arianne replied nonchalantly. “Nonetheless, seems to me that our Queen wants to restore her dinasty, and for that, she won't only need power. An heir is the only thing that will make any of this last.”

That was more than Jon could digest.

Carried away by rage and frustration, he rushed to abandon the place, ignoring Sam and Gendry's calls when he passed by them.

He desperately needed to forget what he'd just heard.

Knowing that, sooner or later, he'd have to leave King's Landing and be away from Daenerys already stole his sleep.

But the idea of seeing her marrying another man and bear his children made him physically sick.

**DAENERYS**

As soon as she considered they'd gone far enough, Daenerys ran to an alley and relentlessly emptied the contents of her stomach.

She tried to focus on Grey Worm's cold touch on the back of her neck as he held her braid. 

"Drink this", Maester's Blane deep voice next to her made her open her eyes, full of aprehension. "It'll help with the nausea."

Inhaling deeply, Daenerys did as he said and swallowed the whole content of the vial he'd offered her. It took her at least a few minutes to compose herself and stand up with Grey Worm's help.

"I didn't remember last time being this bad", she acknowledged, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Each one is different, your grace", the Maester explained in an effort to be discreet, as they were just entering the inhabited part of the city. Then he whispered: "I know it's unpleasant, but you have to see it for what it is. A sign that he is thriving."

Daenerys assented with a warm smile. 

She was profoundly thankful that she'd had the fortune of crossing her path with Maester Blane's. The old man went ot of his way to take care of her, even when the hospice needs were terribly high, and he never dismissed any symptom she told him about. Yet, once he'd considered it safe, he'd encouraged her to walk around and lead a relatively normal life.

Of course, the possibility of waking up one morning and finind the sheets stained with blood was still there.

It would be until the very day she'd give birth, no matter what she did.

The uncertainty of the situation infuriated her. But most of all, it terrified her like nothing else had done in the past.

In fact, fear had begun to take its toll on her.

She'd started having nightmares, waking up screaming in the middle of the night with her whole body covered in sweat. The more frustrating thing was that she was unable to remember what she'd dreamed of.

That, and that the sleep deprivation made her lightheaded and extremely fatighed.

Grey Worm seemed to have sensed this, because instead on making a brief stop by the hospice as they'd initially planned, he gave the Unsullied the order to go directly to the building that they'd turned into their headquarters.

"Why did you do that?", Daenerys asked, visibly upset. "I'm fine, and the children are waiting-"

Apart from trying to rebuild their homes in the shortest time possible and making sure they were all well fed, there was little more Daenerys felt she could do for them this days. And although Maester Blane had assured her that she was doing more than enough, Daenerys had insisted that there must be something else she could do to, at least, try to cheer them up.

"If I may, your grace", Laenor, one of the former Lannister soldiers that had joined Daenerys' during the fire, had intervened. "I'm sure your presence there would be deeply appreciated. My sister is helping there and she says they all dream of meeting The Dragon Queen."

"Thank you, Laenor", she'd replied, then turned to face Maester Blane. "How is that I wasn't informed about that?"

The Maester had given Laenor disapproving look.

"It's not safe."

Daenerys had understood right away what he really meant and why he'd tried to hide that piece of information from her. 

"Will it ever be safe?", she'd asked then. 

"You know it won't", he'd sighed with resignation.

"Then it's settled. We'd pay them a visit after the Council."

But clearly Grey Worm had other plans.

"The children can wait until tomorrow", he replied with a serious tone. "You need to rest."

Daenerys wanted to oppose, but deep down, she knew that her friend was right. But she also knew that she wouldn't be able to rest. So, reluctantly, she let them take her back to what had become her home.

Anticipating that Grey Worm would want to make sure she actually rested and that she didn't dedicate herself to leafing through documents, she feigned a yawn and, grabbing the doorknob she said:

"I'm going to lie for a while. Don't let anyone bother me unless it's urgent."

"Of course."

Daenerys could already smell victory when he added:

"I'll come back in a while to make sure you're okay, your grace."

"Good", she replied, knowing perfectly well that she'd failed miserably as she watched Grey Worm walk down the hall. 

Then, resigned to having to try to sleep, she opened the door of her room and got inside. 

Only to realize, as the door closed behind her, that someone else was already there waiting for her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses on who it may be? ;)
> 
> So, about the Martell Family tree:  
> I'm mixing up some books and series stuff in this story. According to the books, Doran Martell had three children: Arianne, Quentyn and Trystane (in that order).  
> In the series, we only got to meet Trystane, who was betrothed to Myrcella Baratheon and, like her, was murdered by Ellaria Sand&Co. I've decided to mostly follow the series' storyline with this one, but I've also added some changes.  
> To be precise:  
> \- It wasn't Trystane, but Quentyn, who was betrothed to Myrcella and is now... Well, dead.  
> \- Trystane and Arianne weren't in Sun's Spear when Ellaria took power. The reason for it is something I'll get into in future chapters.


	9. Heavy Lies The Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been suffering from the worst writer's block and deciding if the story was worth continuing, hence my dissapearance. 
> 
> Sorry for the huge delay to those of you still following the story. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

"Arya", Daenerys mumbled when she found the Stark girl standing in the middle of the room. 

"We need to talk."

Her annoyed tone didn't go unnoticed for Daenerys. 

They hadn't seen each other since the night of the fire, but Grey Worm had let her know that she was still around.

She'd also noticed her presence that morning, standing next to Sir Davos before the ruins of The Red Keep. The girl had remained in the background throughout the whole meeting, motionless and impassive as always. 

However, when Daenerys had looked at her, she couldn't just see her for the ruthless killer she knew Arya was. It made things even more complicated for her, especially she could guess the conversation they were about to have. 

"You're a bit late."

Arya frowned, appeasing. 

"Late for what?"

Her apparent bewilderment unsettled Daenerys but she started walking up to her with determination. 

"I'm sure you've known my terms for The North's independence for a while now. "

Confusion danced in Arya's eyes for the briefiest of moments. Then, the Stark shook her head slowly and gave the queen an apologetic smile. The astounding resemblance to Jon's caught her off guard and her heart screeched in response, making her falter.

"You think I'm here to _convince_ you to forgive Sansa." 

Daenerys shot her a questioning look. 

The girl had saved her life, but her motives for doing so were still a puzzle, so she was at a loss as far as her loyalties concerned.

The fact that she had waited until that very day to sneak into her room, though, didn't seem to bode well.

"If you're not sure of my intentions, why haven't you warned your Unsullied about my presence?", Arya spoke again, openly defying her. 

Daenerys pointed to the fine scar that the valyrian steel dagger that adorned Arya's belt had left on her skin. 

"We both know that, if you really wanted me dead, I'd already be", she replied stiffly. "But maybe I'm wrong and you've just been waiting for the right time to do it."

"I'm not here to kill you!", Arya exclaimed right a way, and for a second Daenerys thought she'd spot some dissapointment in her voice. "I'm here to _warn_ you."

Daenerys rised an eyebrow, skeptical. 

"About what?"

"You are making a mistake", Arya sentenced without hesitation, her tone serious but also surprisingly concerned which made Daenerys understand at once what she was referring to. More precisely, _who_. 

"Ever since that day, he doesn't sleep, he barely eats and he works tirelessly at the works", Arya went on explaining before she could say a word. "He's wasting away, Daenerys."

The Dragon Queen pressed her lips tightly. 

Arya's depiction of Jon's existence was too familiar for her. But even if she wasn't pleased to hear of his suffering, the fact that one of the same people who had sought their estrangement was trying to hold her accountable for others' mistakes felt like an insult. 

"I didn't ask him to join the works. He chose to. You all did", Daenerys snapped, clenching her jaw. 

It was something to which she'd have openly opposed, had Jon had the consideration of consulting. Not because she didn't appreciate his help or the fact that he'd got the Northmen to join him, but because it was extremely dangerous. 

She could sense wildfire. She'd never seen it before the fire, so she had no way of knowing before the green flames had caressed her skin and her whole being had shaken in response. She thought it had something to do with the magic in her blood, the same one that prevented her from burning and allowed her to bond with Drogon. 

Whatever the reason, however, it had allowed her to know that there were still remains of the substance in the capital. 

Daenerys had tried to locate them by flying over the city with Drogon. They'd found quite a few under the rubble of what one day had been The Red Keep, so they'd banned anyone to go near there.

But the vibrant sensation still gripped her from time to time, albeit never strong enough for her to locate it.

In the end, she'd had no choice but to remain quiet about it and pray that no one would ever find it. People needed a place to live and it wasn't like she could move the city somewhere else. 

"As for his mood, I'm sure it'll get better", she added, walking past Arya and heading to the balcony. "Once he's back at Winterfell, he'll be fine."

For some inexplicable reason, it was as if she'd slapped Arya in the face. 

"No, he won't", she insisted, following her outside. Her voice was full of that same raw pain that Daenerys had heard at The Red Keep, but this time, she chose to ignore it. 

"And how would _you_ know?" 

Arya bit her lip. It was obvious for Daenerys that she was angry at her, but there was something else. 

"Jon was always the most similar to my father. He had The North in him, as did Jon, but now- he's changed.", she said with tears flooding her eyes, and only then Daenerys understood how terribly hard it was for Arya to say those words: "He will always be my brother, but he is not a Stark anymore. He belongs here. With you."

Daenerys clenched her fists tightly, trying to calm herself. 

Even if what Arya was saying was true, it wasn't enough. Memories of what if was to walk through hell abandoned, disowned and rejected by the one man she'd let herself love without holding back still tantalized her. 

The fact that he could have been indirectly responsible for the death of her unborn child made her mad and full of resentment. 

"Why are you here, Arya?", Daenerys sighed, exasperated. 

The girl's eyes darkened, realizing that her words had no effect whatsoever on her. 

"I just told you. You're going to reg-"

"He made his choice", Daenerys cut her immediately, holding onto the balaustrade. "And I made mine. Now we can only contemplate the consequences of them."

"He made a mistake", Arya protested and she reminded her to a child who refuses to let go. "Why can't you forgive him?"

_Because I can't forgive myself for trusting him._

"Tell me something", Daenerys said instead, turning slightly to look directly into her eyes. "If I flew to Winterfell tomorrow and had Sansa burned for what she did, as any sensible monarch would do in my place given the circumstances, do you honestly think he'd ever forgive me?"

"He didn't kill anyone", Arya apostilled with a disapproving glance, unbeknownst to the ultimate effect that Jon's actions had had. Yet, Daenerys carried it within her every minute of every day. 

"He was close enough." 

The Stark girl frowned. 

"It was Tyrion, and not Jon, who ran to tell The Spider", she reproached her. "Why can't you give him another chance like you did with the imp?"

Daenerys glared at her.

She'd known from the very moment she'd decided to spare the man's life that her decision would be questioned by all of those aware of his treason. Her motives for being pious, however, was something she'd rather not share. 

"Make no mistake, Arya: Tyrion's fate hangs on a wire and he'll be punished for his treason until his last day", she stated, looking at the city again. "But even if I had chosen to forgive him, it still wouldn't be the same."

Arya didn't look convinced at all by her reasoning. 

"Not all of us are capable of giving up our own blood", Daenerys admitted, recalling the way Viserys had screamed her name when the gold had melted her skull. Arya had no way of knowing what she was referring to, though. It was a detail she'd chosen to hide from Jon too. "He was weak and I didn't see it, so I guess I could say his betrayal was a mistake of my own doing. One I'll never make again."

"Tyrion chose to help Cersei, and Jon chose to tell us after we all made an oath. Why are you punishing Jon for Sansa's sin?"

Daenerys bit her lip. 

"Did your brother ever tell you how The Night King got my dragon in the first place?"

Arya cocked her head, a spark of curiosity lighting her eyes. 

"When your brother first came to Dragonstone asking for help against the wights, I didn't believe him. But even if I had, I couldn't let Cersei take advantage of it either", Daenerys explained. "Then, Tyrion convinced us all that if we gave her sister some kind of proof, she'd be willing to make a truce."

A plan doomed from the beginning, she had to admit. 

"So Jon volunteered to go beyond The Wall and hunt one of them. Sir Jorah, Gendry and Sir Davos went with him as well", Daenerys especially recalled how Jon's speech at that meeting had forced her to confront herself in regards of her feelings for him. "A raven came a fortnight later. They'd been ambushed and it was a matter of time before they became a part of the Night King's army. Tyrion begged me not to go, but I didn't listen. I flew night and day, terrified that I might not get there on time, that he-"

The memory of the anguish was enough to make her shudder. 

"Anyhow, it was a reckless move. I understimated the threat and Viseryon paid it with his life", she admitted with sorrow. "I could have withdrawn then, let others deal with the problem. I definitely should, I see it now. Instead, I told your brother I'd fight for The North, even before he'd bend the knee. You know why? Because I loved him. Because I wanted to protect him at any cost."

She made a pause, aware that she'd told similar words to Sansa and that it didn't make a change as for the Stark's vision of her. This time, though, Daenerys wasn't defending herself. 

"I've never given up so much for anyone as I did for him", she said as bewildered as if she'd just realized it. "But I've never felt so despised and unworthy in all my life, which is to say considering that my own brother was willing to make me a whore in exchange for an army."

Arya was clearly taken aback by her confession, and for the first time since they'd met she looked like she had no words. 

"I'm sorry that your brother did that to you", she said after a while.

"It was a long time ago", Daenerys tried to downplay the matter. She didn't like to revel on it more than necessary, but it was undeniable that the fact that she wasn't able to trust her own family had shaped into the woman she was nowadays. 

"I understand why it's not easy for you to forgive Jon", Arya admitted with in a hoarse voice.

Daenerys' eyes widened.

"Really?"

The girl gave her a pity smile.

"You're afraid that he'd choose us over you... again", Daenerys tensed at the certainty with which she spoke. "But you have to know that _he won't_. Not after everything that has happened."

 _Everything_ had been more than enough for her to scorn. 

"You can't know that, Arya."

The Stark gave her a faint smile. 

"That night, when Cersei said Jon was your puppet, I was there, in the dungeons. I saw the way you reacted", she explained, and Daenerys winced, surprised that Arya had chosen to withold that piece of information until that moment. "You did the same this morning when the Princess insulted my aunt's memory, and Jon reacted identically when she questioned your claim."

Daenerys knew perfectly well what Arya was talking about.

The way he'd conducted himself throughout the meeting hadn't gone unnoticed for her. 

At first, it had reminded her so much of their first encounter in Dragonstone. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been absolutely captivated by his ability to show strength and, at the same time, be vulnerable. 

Except that, this time, his vulnerability was nowhere to be seen. Jon had been adamant, sharp and fierce. 

Had it made her wonder? Yes. But it wasn't enough.

Nothing could really make up for the threat his unconciousness had meant for the life of their child. 

"So?"

"I've never seen my brother so protective of anyone in my life. Not even me, and I was always his favourite."

Daenerys looked down, feeling a lump forming in her throat.

"He loves you", Arya added with a soft voice. "He loves you so much that he's willing to let you have your peace and dedicate his life to protect you and watch you from afar. Even if it destroys him."

 _It's destroying me too. Just as I told him it'd do,_ Daenerys wanted to protest, but she bit her tongue. 

"It's not _that_ simple."

And although it wasn't her intention, it sounded as an excuse. 

"No, I suppose not", Arya agreed after a few seconds. "But trust me, the path of fear is a very lonely one." 

And ending the conversation with that, she turned around and headed to the door. 

"Arya", Daenerys called her right when she was about to open it.

She had to ask her, she needed to know.

"Why did you do it?"

The question hung in the air for a few seconds. Then, Arya, who didn't look surprised at all by it, said: 

"For the same reason that you prevented me from killing Cersei." 

Daenerys watched her as she left the room, feeling her heart tore even more. 

She didn't had much time to recover either. Someone knocked at her door and she was barely able to regain her composure before a visibly upset Grey Worm stood in front of her.

"Is everything alright?"

Daenerys guessed he'd probably been notified of Arya's presence in the building. 

"Yes", she assured him getting back inside the room.

Grey Worm nodded, clearly relieved.

"Now, I think I need to rest for a while-", she said, but words died in her mouth as Tyrion burst into the room, shortly followed by Eristes, whom Daenerys supposed he'd dodged.

The Unsullied had orders to keep an eye at any moment exactly to prevent a situation like that, so Grey Worm gave Eristes a reprobatory look. Daenerys, however, didn't have the energy to show her distaste, so she just asked Tyrion:

" _What_ is it?"

Tyrion cleared his throat, hinting that whatever it was, he wanted to tell her alone. 

"You no longer have that privilege", she reminded him, biting. Grey Worm was the person she trusted the most nowadays, and Eristes, although lackadaisical, had remained loyal to her until the end. "Say it now and be done with it."

"Why didn't you tell me you were planning on naming _him_ King of The North?", Tyrion asked with a cheeky tone.

Daenerys cocked an eyebrow. 

"Because it was none of your business. You are here to help me handle the nobles and pay for your mistakes, Tyrion. Nothing else", she stated, her voice cold as ice.

"You _should_ have told me", Tyrion insisted.

Daenerys sighed, exasperated by his impertinence.

"Because then, I would have advised you not to", Tyrion continued. "He's the strongest support you have. Sending him away is not wise given the circumstances."

Daenerys scoffed. 

"What circumstances?"

Tyrion gave her a concerning look.

"I've just had a few words with Arianne Martell. She suggested a marriage alliance between you and her brother Trystane."

Daenerys glared at him, blood boiling in her veins.

She was aware Tyrion was passing on the information, but that didn't prevent her from feeling as small as when she was fifteen and Viserys told her about her marriage to Khal Drogo.

" _No_."

"He is asking, he's not demanding", Tyrion pointed out, guessing immediately where her reluctance came from. "It'd be _your_ choice."

The problem was, it wouldn't. Marriage was never a decision made freely when it was a woman who made it. 

"I won't marry him, and that's my last word on the matter", she snarled, and from the corner of her eye she could see Grey Worm tensing. 

"Alright. Then who?", Tyrion inquired, squinting. "Beause you've just exiled the perfect suitor."

She gave him a withering look.

"Careful, Tyrion", she warned, her tone as sharp as her gaze.

"You've let me live under the condition that I help you fix the damage my sister did to the realm and be completely honest, and that's exactly what I'm doing."

"What you're doing is meddling in matters that do not concern you", Daenerys snapped.

Tyrion kept silence for a few seconds, then asked:

"So am I to assume that you won't marry anyone?"

_Yes._

Daenerys kept quiet and Tyrion nodded slowly. 

"And what happens if you die?", he asked. "Not now, not tomorrow, but in a decade or two. Who will rule then?"

Daenerys couldn't think so long term, however much it suited her. The only thing that could convince her to marry would be to prevent her child from being a bastard. 

But it was all uncertainty when it came to her pregnancy, and she didn't want to compromise herself or her child by making such a trascending decision beforehand. 

"We've already discussed this."

"No, _we didn't_ ", Tyrion protested, earning warning glances from Grey Worm and Eristes at once.

Deep down, Daenerys knew that he was right, but it didn't make it any easier.

Aware that he wasn't going to achieve anything by pressing her, he bowed slightly and prepared to leave the room.

"I know this is a delicate matter for you, but this is the price you have to pay if you really want to change things."

Daenerys scoffed. 

"The wheel is already broken."

"For now", Tyrion conceded with a concerning look. 

Unsettled, Daenerys averted his gaze.

She'd dug her grave herself and now there was no going back. 

Jon woke up covered in sweat, his pulse triggered and his breath laboured. 

He looked out the window and saw that it had not yet dawned, so he sat up on his bed, trying to calm himself enough in hopes to go back to sleep. But minutes passed and he was unable to fall sleep again. 

Frustrated, he resolved to wake up and get dressed: if he couldn't get any sleep, he'd go for a ride. 

The streets were deserted and Jon appreciated it. He didn't feel like any kind of social interaction, especially not after his plan of drinking himself to sleep trying to forget the prior night had failed as he'd been harassed relentlessly by Gendry and Yara.

Gendry was fascinated by the fact that Ned Stark had managed to keep his identity a secret for more than twenty years, whilst Yara couldn't quite believe that Jon had given up his claim so easily.

"I didn't give up anything. It was her who won the throne back, not me. As simple as that."

"We both know that it's not _that_ simple", Yara had replied, unconvinced. But for some reason Jon couldn't grasp, she had decided not to revel on it, adding with a grin: "But I'm glad that you see it that way."

Jon had cocked an eyebrow at that. 

"Why?"

"Most men don't think women are capable of ruling", she'd shrugged. "You not only respect her, but admire her. I can't blame you, though. Our queen is something to be reckon with. The man she chooses to marry will be a lucky bastard."

Jon had sensed Sir Davos tensing next to him, but he'd put a hand on his friend's shoulder and decided to bit the bullet. 

" _Aye_. He will." 

Yara had given him then a worrysome look. 

"Did I say something wrong?" 

"No, Lady Yara", Jon had lied with a dispassionate tone as he'd stood up. "I agree with every word." 

And with that, he'd left the place and gone to his chambers in hopes he'd drunk enough wine to not have trouble falling sleep. Miraculously, he hadn't. But once again, nightmares had hunted him relentlessly. 

He couldn't remember what they were about, but he knew they weren't pleasant as he'd woken up screaming more than once. 

Feeling too exhausted to think, Jon rode nowhere, letting the horse choose their tour. But by the time he looked up to see where they were heading, he found himself at the gates of the Dragonpit. 

As a lump in his throat formed, he held the reins tight, contemplating the place with contained rage. He felt stupid for having such feelings for a place, but he couldn't help it.

Knowing that he was capable of burning the place to the ground if he stayed any longer, he resumed to go back. But when he was about to spur his horse, he heard voices:

"Faster, faster! There's no time-"

Curious, Jon dismounted at once. He hid behind the entrance walls and peered carefully to discover a group of at least ten men standing in the arena. 

The platform where the parley had once taken place, was now covered with stubble and stones and, in the middle of it, Jon was able to spot five oval stones of different colours.

 _Dragon eggs_ , he realized, his eyes widened with shock as one of the men grabbed two of them and passed them on to a hooded man. And those men were stealing them. 

"How many Silver Stags do you think they'll give us for one of this?", the hooded man asked out loud, holding the stone high. 

"Silver Stags, you say? They're worth at least one hundred Dragons each!", another replied, and his comment caused a loud laugh from all of them. 

"Shut up and hurry up!", the one who had taken the stones from the nest in the first place shut them up. "If the beast comes back-"

"If I were you, I'd leave them where you've found them. _Now_."

The men spun around to look at him standing at the gates, and a tense silence gloomed above them. 

"Or what?", asked the man with the hood as he drew his sword and approached Jon with a threatening look. "How are you planning to stop us?"

Jon held onto Claw's handle tightly. The man was right indeed, but he couldn't bother in the least. 

There was no way he was going to let them steal Drogon's eggs. 

"Leave them now and I'll let you live", he said, drawing his sword, although he had no intention to let that happen. 

The man shook his head dismissevly and immediately two of the men headed towards Jon. He stood still, wainting patiently until one of them lunged at him with a scream in a too predictable move. 

Jon strayed easily and hit him in the back, knocking him to the ground just before slashing his neck and blood splattered on his face.

The sound of footsteps behind him alerted him to the presence of his partner, and once again, a pair of blows were enough to put the man's life to an end. 

Clearly they'd thought he wouldn't survive, because they all glanced at the hooded man, waiting for orders. The man cocked his head again and soon Jon found himself encircled. 

It wasn't the first time he'd been outnumbered, so a few attacks were enough for him to acknowledge that they acted uncordinated, given him some much-needed edge. His senses were still numbed from the lack of sleep, but he was able to compensate it with the experience of more than a decade. 

So he moved fast, playing defense and dodging every blow so he could use his movements to his own advantage.

It took longer than he'd anticipated and it cost him a few superficial wounds but, in the end, Jon was the last man standing. Still panting, he approached directly the hooded man that seemed to be their leader. 

"Well, well, I sure have underestimated you", he laughed as he uncovered his face, exposing an ugly scar that crossed his face diagonally. "May at least know your name before I end your life?"

Jon scoffed at his presumptuousness, savoring the taste of blood in his mouth. 

"My name is Aegon Targaryen", he spat with a newly found pride, spinning around him. "And if one of us is going to die today, that's you. Not me."

The man managed a sinister smile. 

"Targaryen, huh?", he said, moving slowly. "I thought The Dragon whore was the last of them."

Jon clenched his jaw, rage boiling in his veins. He raised the sword and threw himself at him. The man was certainly more skilled than his companions, but Jon managed to cut him in the neck nonetheless. 

"Watch your mouth", he hissed with a triumphant smile as he watched blood bathing his clothes, aware that the wound wasn't fatal. 

The man let out an frenzied scream and went after Jon with renewed strength. This time, however, it was Jon who had trouble dodging his blows and he backed towards the platform, seeking for the height to give him some advantage. 

It was useless. The man dodged his blow and they both rolled on the sand, although Jon was the one who took the impact. Paralyzed with pain, he remained still and helpless as the man hit him in the face repeatedly. 

He was too tired, too weak to do something about it even if it meant his own death.

Then, from the corner of the eye, he saw one the eggs laying on the arena and he thought of Rhaegal and Viseryon.

One had died protecting them beyond The Wall. The other had let him ride him and protected him during The Long Night. 

Jon had not been able to save them, but the power to save their legacy was in his hands. 

He had a chance to give a part of her children back to Daenerys, and he wasn't going to give it up.

Gathering up his remaining strength, he grabbed the dagger that hung from his his belt with one hand and he strung it into the man's chest, failing to stab him in the heart as he'd planned. The man rolled to the side, howling in pain, and Jon took the opportunity to crawl up to where 'Claw' had fallen.

But when he could finally brush the white wolf's hilt with his fingers, he felt the unmistakable edge of a blade piercing his abdomen and then how this one was withdrown. 

Jon gasped for some air but, unable to cope with the pain, he collapsed on his back on the sand. 

"Fuckin' bastard", he heard the man curse in front of him, and for a moment, it wasn't his but Olly's face what Jon saw. 

Even after all this time, he could still hear him in his mind.

_For the Watch._

_For the Watch._

_For the Watch._

Aware that it'd be only a matter of seconds, Jon closed his eyes as he heard the whistle of the blade cutting through the air. 

Then, it was all screams and the smell of blood flooding his senses. Jon blinked with difficulty as he watched Drogon tearing apart the man's body right in front of him. 

_Now we're even_ , he wanted to joke, but sleep overpowered him.

Before he plunged back once again into the darkness, however, Jon thought of the waterfall. 

_You were right, Dany. You were always right._


	10. Half In The Shadows, Half Burned In Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! 
> 
> I lost most part of the chapter due to technical problems and, well, as you can imagine rewriting it wasn't as fun as writing it for the first time. I hope the lenght of it makes up for it. 
> 
> Thank you all for your extremely generous support (especially taking to account that I'm not the most prompt author lol). Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that it really makes my day when I read you or see your kudos.  
> I'll go reply them right after publishing this.

"Well?", Sansa asked as soon as the four soldiers rushed into the Great Hall.

"He's not in his room, my lady", said one of them, his voice slightly trembling. 

Sansa frowned in response, clearly disgruntled. 

"Then find him _,_ Robar. He _can't_ have gone far." But the soldier kept his head low, unable to hold her gaze, and Sansa feared the worst. "What is it?"

"We've looked for him everywhere, Lady Stark", he replied at once, then cleared his throat and added: "He's not in the castle." 

A chill ran down Sansa's spine. 

_Of course he isn't_ , she huffed with a tight smile.

She momentarily felt the need to yell at Robar for his ineptitude, but she refrained. Sooner or later, she'd need their support and her status as Lady of Winterfell was fragile enough as it was.

Besides, it was safe to assume that the man, like most people, believed Bran a mere cripple and had serious doubts about his state of mind. So, if someone could be blamed for underestimating her brother's abilities, that was her.

Regaining her composure, Sansa let out a deep sigh and, as kindly as she could, she said:

"Thank you, Robar. You may leave now."

The young man gave her a brief bow and left her alone in the Great Hall.

Only then, Sansa allowed herself to crumble as she craddled her head between her hands. 

Bran had turned out to be priceless asset in her personal war against Daenerys. With him gone, her chances of winning were drastically reduced. 

Especially since she hadn't heard from Jon since his departure. 

Was his punishment a complete surprise? Surely, not. Sansa had broken her oath knowing perfectly well the damage it may cause and the consequences it could bring to their already strained relationship. 

_He left me no choice_ , Sansa reminded herself. He'd made perfectly clear that he wouldn't listen to reason where Daenerys was concerned. 

He'd given up his crown without asking for her opinion or anyone's for that matter. Most importantly, he'd freely given The North to the daughter of the same man that had slaughtered their family. 

All because he was in love with _her_. 

Maybe she wasn't as cruel and perfidious as Cersei, but Sansa had noticed quite quickly that beneath Daenery's beauty and apparent goodwill lied an immeasurable ambition. Which along her armies and dragons posed a threat she was not willing to tolerate, much less celebrate. 

The morning after their arrival, Sansa had witnessed Jon leaving Daenerys' chambers and that alone had been enough for her to realize that she needed to act fast. 

_A child would only complicate things and make us all vulnerable_ , she'd reasoned, then she'd asked one of her maids to get the poison for her.

The girl had come back that night with a vial of a traslucent liquid, assuring her that it was lethal and undetectable. Its effect, however, wasn't immediate. With Joffrey's death memory still vivid on her mind, Sansa had specifically requested that way in order to avoid raising suspicions. 

However, Jon's reveal and the Queen's sudden urge to leave Winterfell had altered her plans, causing her to resort to desperate measures to get things done.

Aware that Daenerys and Jon would travel separately, she'd taken the liberty to anonymously convey the Queen's plans to Cersei, hoping that she would be able to reduce the threat in a significative way. And so, when Tyrion had informed her about the dragon's death and the abduction of the queen's advisor, Sansa had truly believed that victory was a matter of time. She just had to wait for Cersei to finish what remained of Daenerys' armies and her last dragon. 

But the sweet taste Tyrion's words had provided her had diluted with the passing of weeks and the absence of news from the South. And so, out of desperation, Sansa had reached out to Bran.

She'd known from the very beginning that it was a risky move. Yet, the fact that he'd probably known her plans for a while and hadn't tried to stop her reassured her in her belief that, at the very least, her brother wanted Daenerys gone as much as she did. 

"Daenerys attacked King's Landing alone", Bran had told her in his usual dispassionate tone and Sansa had rejoiced at the prospect of what could mean: Jon was safe and Daenerys presumably dead.

Surely, if the Iron Fleet had killed her other dragon so easily, there was no way she could have survived. 

"And?" 

"Cersei is dead", he simply said and Sansa could have sworn she'd felt blood crystalizzing in her veins.

To think that she'd been longing to hear those same words for years... Dreaming of the delight that Cersei's death would bring her. She'd never counted on the distress that the news had actually brought her, the burning itch that had taken over her body since then.

"Is she alive?", she'd manage to ask after a while, unable to pronounce her name. 

"Yes", he'd replied to her complete horror. "She knows about the poisoning, too."

Sansa hadn't even blinked at the accusation, but her lips had started twitching as a fear she'd never known before crippled her.

"Does she have any suspicions?" 

Bran hadn't answered her right away, which Sansa had just started to notice was his chosen mode of torture. 

"No". He'd said after which had felt like ages. "She thinks it was Varys."

The Spider ir dead, Sansa had quickly recalled, letting out a sight of relief. Tyrion had told her in his last letter. 

Her joy, however, was crushed only a few seconds later. 

"She is pregnant", Bran had said locking his eyes with hers, as if he'd been waiting moons for that exact moment. 

Bile had rose to her throat and she'd started to feel deezy, but she'd tried her best to prevail, refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing her falter. 

"Will you tell them?"

Her tone was cold, devoid of all emotion, although she could feel everything she'd built falling apart around her.

"Will you tell _anyone_?" 

And for the first time since they'd met after the war, a sadistic grin flashed across Bran's face.

"Why would I?", he'd wondered out loud. "I'm as guilty as you are, _sister_."

She'd slowly nodded to him and, shaking to the core, she'd left the room and closed the door behind her. 

Back at her chambers, Sansa had grabbed a pillow and screamed into it for hours. 

_Stupid, stupid girl_ , she'd repeated like a chant. 

She had failed miserably. Not only was Daenerys still alive, but also carrying Jon's child.

That detail changed everything. 

A child was a sacred bond for most men, Sansa recognized. But for Jon, who had grown up as Winterfell's bastard and then found out the truth, it'd be the point of no return. 

_Daenerys could burn the Seven Kingdoms tomorrow that he wouldn't do anything to stop her_ , she'd realized as she cried herself to sleep that night. 

Now, however, Sansa couldn't help but wonder if that conversation with Bran hadn't actually been her own turning point. 

Truth be told, paranoia had engulfed her whole since then, only intensified by the permanent lack of news from the South.

But with Bran was gone, she couldn't afford to falter. 

_The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives_ , their father used to say. 

It was what had kept them all together for the last year. But there was no pack any longer. 

Only chaos. 

And yet, Sansa wasn't nervous. 

"Kingslayer!"

Used to the name as he was, Jaime chose to ignore the man and shook his head in Podrick's direction, who, unlike him, was visibly upset by the man's rudeness.

"Don't", Jamie commanded the boy as he stood in front of him, sensing that he intended to say something defend him. "It's not worth it."

"But-", Podrick protested, but words died in his mouth as the soldier spoke again. 

"Lady Sansa wants to see you." 

Jamie exchanged a meaningful look with Podrick and the boy nodded with understanding.

He couldn't refuse to the meeting. Not when she had protected him from the Dragon's Queen wrath. 

However, as he followed the moron through the castle, Jamie wondered what could Sansa Stark possibly want from him. 

The only reason he'd managed to survive being that Brienne had begged for his life and he'd proved himself quite useful during the battle.

But he wasn't as stupid as to think that he was safe. His fate hung on a thread and he had a hunch he was about to find out which exactly. 

Lady Sansa was already waiting in the Godswood with her back to them, her auburn hair cascading over her cape of black hair. And for a second, Jamie had the feeling of being in the presence of Lady Catelyn Stark. The girl had her same pose, the same leisurely movements.

Then, at the sound of footsteps in the snow, she turned around and the mirage vanished

"You can leave, Lorien. Sir Jaime won't hurt me", she said at the reluctance of her guard to leave the place, looking at him with a pierced gaze. "Am I right, Sir Jaime?"

Jaime clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. 

"Of course, Lady Stark." 

Unwillingly, the guard turned around and started walking back to the castle. Once he was far enough, Jaime couldn't refrain from asking: 

"What if I lied?" 

Sansa let out a bitter laugh. 

"Ah, Sir Jaime, if I learnt anything during my stay in King's Landing is that, despite your bad fame, you were never the real threat."

"You sound just like my Lord brother", Jaime cocked an eyebrow. A stark reminder that he hadn't forgotten that time either. "I might not be the most cunning Lannister, but I have other qualities."

Sansa nodded in agreement. 

"Indeed." Her voice oozed contempt. "Otherwise, your head would already be on a pike." 

Jaime wished to appoint that it'd been Ned Stark's own stupidity which had ultimately cost him his head, but he chose to stay quiet. As smart as she prided to be, the girl probably knew that already. 

"A raven arrived from King's Landing yesterday." Jaime made a titanic effort to remain impassive, foreboding her next words: "Your sister is dead."

The news didn't catch him by surprise.

Daenerys may have lost another dragon at her arrival to Dragonstone, but ever since the battle at The Reach, Jamie had known that one would suffice to annihilate them all. He'd tried to explain it to Cersei countless times, but his sister had been confident she would be able to use her own weapons against her.

Well, seemed like, just like her dragons, Daenerys Targaryen didn't answer to men's tricks.

Jamie acknlowledged that he probably should feel sad, angry even. After all, he'd loved Cersei for most of his life and she was pregnant once again with his child. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to feel any of those emotions.

Instead, he felt nothing.

"You killed the Mad King to avoid bloodshed", Sansa casually added then, and Jamie tried hard to conceal the stung of pain he felt at the mention of one of his least honorable moments. "I'm afraid, Lord Jamie, it is within the possible that the realm requires your services once again."

Jamie's eyes widened at the realization of what she was implying. The heavy silence that followed confirmed she wasn't actually playing with him, which made him fight hard against the impulse of let out a bitter laugh.

 _You are a man without honour_ , Lady Catelyn had told him moments before setting him free.

Jamie couldn't help but wonder what would the old woman say if she saw her own daughter becoming the very thing she abhorred.

Daenerys woke up, startled by the defeaning and familiar roar that broke the silence of dawn.

Confused, yet inexplicably mad, she quickly stood up like a spring and stepped into the terraze. The wisk wind of dawn caressed her skin, strands of white hair floating around her. 

Instinctively, her gaze wandered to the sky. It seemed clear except for a flock of birds, but Daenerys bit her lip, unsettled.

Their bond never activated when the dragon was hunting or merely annoyed. 

So she closed her eyes and held tightly onto the balaustrade, trying to summon him through her mind. As soon as it touched his, waves of anger, fury and pain wiped her out, leaving her gaping in shock and feeling the taste of blood in her mouth. 

_Something is wrong_ , she anxiously realized, her heart pounding heavily against her ribcage. 

She turned around, planning on getting dressed and going after him when the foundations of the building were shaken by another roar. Before she could acknowledge what was happening, the imposing figure of Drogon descended upon her. 

Daenerys stumbled back, surprised by the abruptness of his movements. But her dragon didn't landed.

Instead, he stayed in the air before her for a while, roaring in dispair then lowering his claws to deposit something on the ground with unusual care.

Daenerys frowned at the sight, but her confusion turned into horror the moment she realized that whatever it was, it had human form and was covered in blood.

Drogon roared once again, his wings batting in the air distrissingly fast.

This time, however, the sound painfully reminded her of the one he'd made when he'd seen his siblings fall from the sky.

And in that very moment, Daenerys could feel the tall walls she'd carefully and conscientously built around her already bruised heart collapsing inside her chest.

_No. No. No._

She didn't remember moving, yet she found herself kneeling next to the body and turning it over so she could wake herself up from the nightmare she was in. Her heart stopped when she recognized the two direwolves-sigil engraved on his breastplate and the smell of blood leaking from it.

" _GUARDS!!!_ ", she shrieked, shaken uncontrollably as she put a bloody hand over Jon's mortally-pale cheek.

He was too cold, but at as her finger brushed his blue lips, Daenerys thought she felt a shadow of a breath. 

She patted his face, desperately trying to wake him up. He didn't move. 

" _Jon_ ", she called him insistently, sorrounding his face with her hands and and bringing his face close to hers until her nose was against his. "Jon, please."

But he didn't respond. Sensing the so familiar claws of Death trying to take him away, Daenerys started sobbing hysterically. 

"I'm sorry, Jon. I'm so sorry. _I beg you_. Stay with me."

"Your Majesty." Grey Worm's voice startled her, and Daenerys turned around slightly to find her friend standing right behind her.

"Help me", was everything that left her mouth. Tears ran down her face, mixing up with blood along the way as she carefully cradled Jon's body in her arms. 

"Fetch Maester Blane! Now!", Grey Worm roared to Eristes, who had just arrived to the place. From the corner of the eye, Daenerys noticed the brief nod of the Unsullied and how he rushed out the room. Then, his friend kneeled before her and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"He's a warrior, Mysha. He'll survive."

She would have liked nothing more than to believe him, but she'd survived too many horrors to know that there was just too much blood. The only thing she could think about was the sad certainty that, if she could trade his fate for hers, she would.

Contrary to popular belief, Jon found death quite pleasant.

He thought it felt more like falling asleep. Little by little, his senses were fading and, soon enough, there would be nothing.

Ah, the void. The emptiness. That _did_ terrified him.

Ever since his death at the Wall, he'd tried to prepare himself for the time he had to face it again. 

It didn't make it any easier, though, so he resumed to keep his eyes closed. 

Until he heard the voice of the woman he loved calling him.

Astonished, he opened his eyes at once and realized that, unlike last time, he wasn't sorrounded by pure darkness.

Instead, he could see the starry sky and a red moon above him. He blinked repeatedly, unable to reconcile his own memories with wherever it was he was this time around.

When he finally accepted that his body in fact answered to him, he stood up and realized he'd been lying across a field of grass.

Then, he smelled the smoke and, as a stream of hot air caressed his back, Jon turned around to discover a castle being engulfed in flames. He didn't recognize the building, but there was something in the way the fire consumed it that felt oddly familiar. 

"It's the magic in your blood", a deep male voice said behind him. "That's why you feel connected to it."

Jon turned around once again to face the young man standing before him. He was surprisingly tall, with white long hair falling on either side of his face and big indigo eyes staring up at him.

" _Who_ are you?", Jon inquired hoarsely. "What is this place?"

The man came to stand beside him and only then, Jon noticed the red three-headed dragon that adorned his black armor.

As if sensing the thread of his thought, the man gave him an warm smile before replying:

"This, _Aegon_ , is Summerhall."

Jon frowned immediately.

"How do you know who I am?"

The man chuckled, and Jon froze at the realization that he sounded exactly like Daenerys.

 _That's not possible._ _He died long before I was born._

But then again, Jon had to remind himself that he was no longer alive either. And the man standing beside him, well, he certainly looked real to him. He must have sensed his conflict, because he put a hand on Jon's shoulder and said:

"I think you already know the answer to that." His voice was deep and there was something on it that reminded him of Maester Amon. "I have long awaited this day, son."

"But how-?" His voice broke halfway, feeling again like the orphan who had never really stopped being.

Rhaegar shook his head dismissively and took him by the shoulders. The gesture as familiar as if he'd done it a thousand times, awakening a deep longing in Jon he didn't know existed.

"That is not important right now", he assured him. "You're here for a reason, and we don't have much time."

Jon blinked repeatedly, completely lost.

"I don't understand", he admitted, and once again, his father showered him with a warm recomforting smile. 

"You're not dead, Aegon", he explained. "At least, not yet."

" _Not yet?_ ", Jon asked, even more confused.

"The war is not over, son. The threat is still out there", Rhaegar said, his tone now serious and concerned. "And you need to make a choice."

Jon frowned.

"But the Night King is dead", he said, as if refusing what his words implied.

"Life and death are two sides of the same coin. As long as one exists, the other will too."

Jon pressed his lips tight together, trying to process what that meant.

"This war. It will never really end, will it?"

Rhaegar gave him an empathetic smile.

"I'm afraid it won't", he admitted with a low voice. "But if enough battles are won, it can be postponed."

Jon inhaled deeply, suddenly feeling extremely exhausted.

"The choice I have to make", he started. "What is it about?"

His father put his hands over his face.

" _You_ , obviously", he said with obvious affection, and Jon felt tears clouding his eyes, for no one, not even his uncle, had ever showered him with such fatherly love. "You must decide if you want to rest and die as Jon Snow, or start living and fighting as Aegon Targaryen."

Jon bit his lip, his jaw clenched and his hands pressed into fists, as he tried to control the tremor that shook him from the inside.

He'd been fighting that same battle since the day he'd found out about his parents. Trying to reconcile the person he'd been for the past twenty years with the one that had recently started lurking from his mutilated heart.

"I don't know how to do it", he admitted in a whisper as he lowered his gaze to the ground. 

"You do", Rhaegar cut him, forcing him to look at him. Only then, Jon noticed a gleam like pride reflected in his indigo eyes. " _You've always known_. Ever since the moment you decided to follow your own path and be with her, you've been walking on the right direction. Don't stray now."

Jon blushed terribly and averted his eyes at the succint mention of Daenerys.

"It's too late for that", he confessed, irretrievably thinking of the way she'd pushed him away.

Rhaegar gave him a knowing look.

"You have to understand that, just like you, Daenerys has been paying for my mistakes since before she was born." The remorse in his voice was almost tangible. "She grew up fleeing, covered up in poverty and betrayal from those who should have protect her. She never looks back and I suspect that is the very reason she'd managed to survive... Until you came along."

_And I failed her miserably._

"Give her time", Rhaegar said with a soft smile when he saw Jon's eyes darkening. "Have no doubts, my son. Your destiny is intertwined. It has been since the day you were born."

"How could you possibly know?", Jon inquired, squinting.

"As I said, there's magic running through our veins", Rhaegar replied cryptically.

Jon cocked an eyebrow at that.

"Is that why you married my mother?", he demanded to know.

His father eyes clouded immediately, and in that moment Jon confirmed that what Bran had told him was true: his father did loved his mother.

"I married your mother because I loved her. I'd do it again tomorrow if given the chance." His voice transpired a pain so raw that Jon couldn't help but curse the ill fate that had condemned them all. "That, however, doesn't prevent me from knowing that I had little to say in our destiny. Yours even."

Jon opened his mouth to ask what did he mean by that, but the cry of a woman in the middle of the night made him jolt.

"What is that?"

Rhaegar let out a sigh.

"That is your decision calling to be made", he simply said.

 _Daenerys_ , Jon realized, feeling his heart broke as the sound turned into sobs.

"If I choose to live, if I choose to fight", he said, turning to look at his father. "Will she ever be safe?"

"I can't assure you that", Rhaegar acknowledged with a sad smile. "What I can tell you is that she will be safer if you live than if you die."

Jon nodded in silent.

_You already knew that, didn't you?_

"Can I do something? To protect us against that threat you were talking about?", Jon asked then, suddenly feeling strangely uncomfortable.

Rhaegar's face turned serious almost immediately.

"Fire is power", he said with a concerned look. "Don't fight it, don't try to understand it. But do keep it close to your heart."

Unsure of what to do with that, Jon nodded slowly.

"Time is running out, my son", Rhaegar annunced turning to look at the burning castle before them. "You have to go back."

Jon frowned.

"But how?", he asked, visibly puzzled.

Rhaegar just gave him an enigmatic smile and, for some reason, Jon suddenly felt compelled to get closer to the fire.

He knew he should be afraid. After all, unlike Daenerys, he knew what burning was like.

But he couldn't bring himself to stop.

_Don't fight it. Don't try to understand it._

When he was about to cross the threshold, however, he turned around and gave one last look to his father, who kept standing in the grass, looking directly at him.

"Father!", he shouted, feeling the words he'd longing to say all his life suddenly stuck in his throat. "I-"

"I know." He heard Rhaegar's voice above the crackle of flames. "Next time we see each other, I'll tell you everything."

"I beg you. Stay with me."

Daenery's plea echoed from within the castle, and Jon knew that the moment had come.

If he didn't go inside, he'd never be able to go back.

Inhaling deeply, Jon let himself be engulfed by the flames knowing that, for the first time in his life, he walked towards his destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa being the one who poisoned Daenerys was on my mind from the very beginning of the story. The scene where Brienne tells Jaime about the ambush of The Iron Fleet always made me think she was behind it all. I won't elaborate further since I assume we're all grown ups and understand that each of us is driven by different things, wether they are morally questionable or not.  
> As for Jamie, I'm going with the idea that his redemption took place between S7 and S8, that's why I didn't dwell on his reasons for turning his back on Cersei.


End file.
